


Serendipity

by baekyall



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Modern Royalty, Romance, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-03-25 07:25:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 65,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13829334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baekyall/pseuds/baekyall
Summary: Baekhyun's imminent arranged marriage, a prince named Chanyeol, and how they collide.





	1. one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I know -- I should be writing Reverie. But I just wanted to write the first chapter for this idea and get it out of my system! It might not be continued unless I get feedback requesting it, but I hope you enjoy! Leave a comment if you like it, thanks!

Baekhyun had known since childhood that he wouldn't be marrying for love. He'd been raised in opulence, in wealth that few ever get to experience, and this was the price he would have to pay for his lifestyle -- his marriage would be a corporate deal, a trade-off with some company. Baekhyun was a pawn in a game, but he'd known it his entire life, had accepted it. 

So when his father calls him down to his study and finally announces that Baekhyun will be getting married, it's not a shock that Baekhyun has never met his betrothed. His mother makes a pitiful face at him and his father smiles grimly, tired eyes seeming to tell him the same thing they always had: love and marriage are not mutually exclusive. 

Baekhyun accepts it easily and nods along, offering a small smile to console his mother. She had always hoped that maybe something would change and he'd fall in love before his father found him someone, but Baekhyun had never even  _tried_  to fall in love. What was the point, when, at the end of the day, it's all down to a contract? 

Baekhyun lays on his bed, silk sheets feeling oddly itchy and uncomfortable under him. He doesn't want to admit it, but maybe he's a little frustrated at the thought of signing his entire future away to some business partner. But then he thinks of the bed he's laying on, the watch on his wrist, the view from his window. He knows why he's allowed to have all of this -- his father is a businessman, a good one at that, and Baekhyun is another successful business deal. 

He sighs and moves to sit on the sofa next to the window, staring absentmindedly out at the dimming light spreading across Seoul. It's all glittery pinks and oranges dusted over ancient homes, over skyscrapers. It's jarring, Baekhyun thinks, to imagine moving away from his windowsill, away from his home, away from the warm skies and city sounds. 

His phone buzzes, screen lighting up his dark room, a chirping tone stirring his senses. Baekhyun checks it, but it's nothing besides an update from Twitter about celebrities he follows. Baekhyun's mind flashes back to the serious voice his father had addressed him with earlier, the name he'd used when he talked about his intended: Park Chanyeol.

Baekhyun has never  _heard_  of them, but his father assured him earlier that Chanyeol was a perfect match in status and wealth and opportunity -- which was all Baekhyun's father could hope for, really. 

He sets to googling his future spouse's name out of pure curiousity, a spark leaping in his chest at the thought of what he might discover. He can't drive the thought out of his head that Chanyeol is too boyish of a name to be an heiress, but he hesitates on assuming.

He's always liked both girls and boys, but he'd never  _told_  his father, never even confided in his mother. There's no way they would know, but Baekhyun can't help the constricting feeling in his chest as he thinks to all of the casual insults thrown towards the LGBT+ in Korea and, occasionally, in his very own household. 

His mind refocuses as the phone completes the name search, a wiki page popping up as the first result. Baekhyun's mouth drops as he clicks it and reads the first word: royalty.

He reads on, intrigued, and discovers that Chanyeol is a boy, is somehow a prince, and will never be king. He's ninth in line, behind an entire set of cousins and then some. His country is a small island close to Korea, close enough that they share the same language. Baekhyun looks at the map and statistics, noting that Chanyeol's nation is incredibly self-reliant and only exports goods -- they can stand on their own and still earn money. Baekhyun thinks he sees the appeal his father had noticed. 

Chanyeol is only twenty-three. Baekhyun feels a little old now, but he scrolls on, searching for a picture of the man; there's none.

The most information he  _actually_  learns about Chanyeol is from the short personal life section: _Park Chanyeol has two older siblings and has never attended a photographed event. He is known to be handsome and generous, but no one outside of his small island nation knows anything about him. It is reported that Chanyeol studied abroad in Paris but never revealed himself to the public as a royal. He has never been in a public relationship._

Baekhyun is suddenly a little shaky, scared of the possibilities of Chanyeol. He was some guy, two years younger than him, who has seemingly never been photographed in his entire life.

What if there was a reason they'd concealed Chanyeol like that? Was Baekhyun going to be okay in this agreement? Baekhyun's stomach churns a little, but he reads the fun fact section to calm himself, if only for a minute. 

 _Park Chanyeol is fluent in three languages: Korean, English, and French._ _He is well-loved by the public, seen as a perfect prince to his people, and has been given multiple awards for contributions to charity. He is classically trained in piano and cello._

Okay, impressive, Baekhyun notes, although he feels a sort of bitter pang in his chest at how accomplished the younger is. 

Baekhyun sighs and throws his phone to the other side of his bed. He doesn't want to read about this perfect, perfect prince anymore. He wants to take a nap and act like he isn't going to sign his life away in a few weeks. So that's what he does. 

\-- 

He can only sleep so many days away before it's the night before he's to be married. Well, not married, really, just signing a paper, but it will still be  _official_  in less than 12 hours. Apparently, Chanyeol will host an actual ceremony for the satisfication of his citizens, but Baekhyun ignores the thought of that for now -- he has to focus on surviving the courthouse debacle first. 

Baekhyun checks his hair in the mirror, makes sure the black eyeliner he'd put on was smudged in just the right way to make him look mysterious. It was his last night as a single, unmarried, free twenty-five year old. He needed to take advantage of it. 

And so he's out the door, warm spring air lifting his spirits and tousling his already (intentionally) messy hair. He's going to go out and club and get drunk and maybe hookup with someone. It's the last chance for him to have a good time without being legally tied to someone, without feeling guilty for betraying someone. He could never cheat on his husband, he's sure of that, and so he decides to have a party one last time, if only to have a fling for once in his life. 

He'd texted a few of his friends, the kind he only socialized with to go out and drink, and he's still waiting on a response when he walks in the club. It's dark, he notes with a sigh, fumbling through the crowd to get a drink. There are twinkling red and pink lights all around the room, a cherry tint to the entire building. He can feel the bass of the song in his bones, can feel the beat turn his legs into jelly for a split second.

Maybe he's nervous, maybe he's never gone out with the sole purpose of getting drunk and doing whatever he wants. Maybe he's kind of regretting this. 

He doesn't have too much time to ponder, though, because before he can finish his first drink, he spots a familiar face in the crowd. He bustles over to her, shouting an excited, "Yuri!" 

The woman turns to meet his gaze, glittery eyes widening and scarlet red lips parting in happiness. 

"Baekhyun!" she squeals, hobbling over to him in her high heels. She's very obviously drunk, but Baekhyun likes the way Yuri smiles and jokes when she gets like this. Her dress is a tight gold material, diamond belt wrapped around her waist, matching jewelry adorning her neck and earlobes. She's extravagant and beautiful, and Baekhyun laughs when she turns a dramatic 360, making a show of her beauty. 

"You're really dolled up," Baekhyun compliments, smiling when she makes a shocked face and slaps him lightly on the shoulder. "Beautiful, Yuri." 

"Baekhyun, don't flatter me too much," Yuri giggles, but he can tell that she loves the attention and his company.

She's the daughter of a conglomerate in the jewelry industry and she's been at every function Baekhyun can think of since he was a kid. He'd always looked up to her like an older sister, a glimmering, gorgeous girl to hang out with him when he was bored to death with the business talk. 

"Why are you out tonight?" Baekhyun makes conversation around his half-full glass. Yuri raises a perfectly manicured nail to point across the room at a ridiculously excited pair of dancers in the middle of the floor. The two are hooting and dancing on each other in a way that makes a smile break across Baekhyun's face out of fondness, despite not recognizing either of them.

"My friends. They wanted to party," Yuri downs what was left of her drink. "And here I am!" 

Yuri raises her arms above her head and shakes them, diamonds shining in the dim, rosy light. "Let's dance, Baekhyun! Isn't that what you came to do?" 

Baekhyun finishes his drink and nods with a smile, allowing the older woman to drag him toward the middle of the room, to where her friends are making a scene and screaming along to each word of the rap song blasting out. They're loud, obnoxious, and kind of give Baekhyun a headache, but he likes the way they're having a good time so blantantly.

"Tae!" Yuri yells out, hand reaching out to wrap about a small blonde girl's wrist, pulling her. "Say hi! It's Baekhyun, you know him." 

Baekhyun belatedly recognizes Taeyeon, a friend of Yuri but no one fantastically rich, and it dawns on him that the boy a foot away must be Heechul, a loud boy whose father owns half of South Korea. 

"Hi, Baekhyun!" Taeyeon screams back, voice high pitched and happy. Then she's drawn back in by the music, pushing towards Heechul in order for them to perform _choreography_  in sync. Baekhyun is shocked, but he watches their fluid steps in amazement; they're not amateur clubbers, he realizes. 

"Dance, Baekhyun!" Yuri commands with a pointed finger. "I'm getting us more drinks. You need to loosen up and  _dance_." 

Baekhyun sways with the music, awkwardly joining in with Taeyeon and Heechul for one song, before he's back to hopping on his own. The alcohol he'd chugged earlier is hitting his system, giving him a sudden rush of endorphins. The sights and sounds send energy rushing through his veins, adrenaline high and expectations higher. He  _is_  going to have a good night, he tells himself. 

Yuri is back in a few minutes and Baekhyun downs another drink, fully relaxed. He's almost forgotten  _why_  he was stressed enough to come clubbing in the first place as he screams the lyrics with Yuri and her friends, hopping violently and shaking his butt like there's no tomorrow. Maybe this was a good idea, he thinks, giggling into Heechul's shoulder as an old pop song vibrates through the club. 

Upbeat songs pass and soon it's slow and sensual, which prompts the friend group to go and sit back down, too grossed out to be stuck in the middle of couples groping each other on the dance floor. It's better to go and drink, Baekhyun decides, than to stand in an ocean of sweaty bodies and hormones. He shudders as he takes a sip of another drink, this time a bright blue concoction. 

Baekhyun is laughing at something that Yuri slurs out when he feels a pair of eyes on him and looks up, noticing a tall boy walking toward their group. He has sideswept black hair, is wearing an expensive watch and an even more expensive suit. His face is chiseled but still kind, paired with big ears and pretty lips. He looks soft to the touch but visibly handsome. He's attractive, Baekhyun notes, and he watches in amazement as the man makes his way closer to the table. 

"Who's that?" Taeyeon whispers, noticing Baekhyun's open-mouthed stare. Baekhyun glances to her, embarrassed, and shakes his head to communicate that he has no idea -- really. Yuri turns and to ogle the man too, quirking her eyebrows and licking her lips. Heechul starts to search for the object of the trio's attention, but when Baekhyun follows his line of sight, he's surprised to see that now he's  _close_  to them. 

They make eye contact for a split second and goosebumps break out across Baekhyun's arms, the look in the man's brown eyes giving his entire body a sudden thrill. It's probably the alcohol -- Baekhyun knows this, truly -- but he knows that he's enchanted, if only for tonight. Then the man has walked past, long legs and sloped nose slipping into the crowd. He's headed to the bar, Baekhyun realizes, and he has a primal urge to follow him. 

He feels himself standing up, gravitating toward the tall man, leaving a bewildered table of friends hooting after him. He feels so weird, but so utterly compelled to talk to the man, to at least make his interest known. It  _is_  his last night before he's married -- it's not like he has much to lose, after all. 

"Hello," Baekhyun says confidently, sliding beside the man at the bar, acting like he needs another drink. The logical side of his brain tells him that he doesn't need another one, but why not, if he's already at the counter? 

The man's head turns to face him, features more gentle from up close. He's still extremely attractive, but Baekhyun now realizes that it's a boyish charm set off by his aura of grace, his obvious wealth and intelligence.

Shit, Baekhyun realizes, it's not even a gay bar -- he has no idea if this guy would even _consider_  him. Too late to back out now, he reasons, and he flashes the younger guy a charming smile, nose scrunching at the way the man naturally smiles back. 

"Hello," the man responds, voice deep and laced with sweetness. Baekhyun likes it. A lot. 

"Getting a drink for your girlfriend?" Baekhyun asks casually, testing the waters.

"I don't have one," he says in a voice that suggests maybe Baekhyun has a chance. The shorter boy takes this hint and scoots closer, enough that he could easily glide into the man's arms if he wanted to. He wants to, but that's besides the point. 

"Oh? Me neither," Baekhyun smiles again, this time small and wicked and flirty. The man notices, gulping visibly and mirroring Baekhyun's advances. 

The bartender is heading toward them and Baekhyun panics because, fuck, he's going to interrupt and end the conversation before anything starts. But the tall boy senses it too and, thankfully, pipes up in his baritone voice: "Do you want to dance?"

"Yes," Baekhyun responds immediately, letting the taller wrap a large hand around his waist and lead him towards the floor. Baekhyun notices in a drunken stupor that he dropped off his suit jacket at a table, now only in a black dress shirt -- and he's even more attractive. He gulps, thinking about the blood rushing to his head and cheeks and everywhere else. 

The song is still slow, but the beat is fast enough that there's something to move to, something to hold the man and whisper sweet nothings to. 

Baekhyun feels himself go a little light headed and they mold together on the dance floor, bodies pressed close and large hands softly roaming his arms, wrists, cheeks, hips. It's a lot to take in, especially when the song suddenly changes to something fast and the crowd heats up, pushing him completely flush against the taller man. 

Baekhyun bites his lip when he feels how hot his skin feels, feels the warmth transferring from the man to him, feels something like lust drifting between them. He registers that the man's lips feel as pretty against his as they'd looked from across the room, that his hands are rough and warm and  _all over him_. 

There's more touching, more heated kisses, and Baekhyun's head swims as they break away from the crowd, headed outside. Baekhyun never lets go of the man's forearm, never stops his soft kisses against the man's jaw, even when they get in a cab. It's a blur of city lights, of deep-voiced whispers against his ear, of intertwined fingers and dashing smiles. 

They're at an expensive apartment in only minutes, fingertips on fire, clothes discarded almost instantly. The only details Baekhyun takes in about the flat are that the man's couch is leather and the countertop is granite -- he discovers these details when he's pressed up against them, mind spinning and hands shaking against the man's strong chest. 

Baekhyun doesn't remember much after, just that the man's sheets are a finer silk than his, that the man's voice sounds melodic when it's strained and moaning, that his own voice is starting to give out. 

\--

He wakes up to sunlight streaming from a penthouse window, to the sound of a shower in the master bath. Baekhyun sits up slowly, careful of any hangover-induced nausea, and tiptoes out in search of clothes. He finds his phone and pants but no shirt, and so he settles for stealing a t-shirt folded on a coffee table. It's much too big for him, but it's fine -- he just needs to  _not_  be naked when his hookup walks out of the bathroom. 

Baekhyun is a shocked at himself when the word runs through his mind --  _hookup._  Despite the constant parties he'd been exposed to, he'd never actually had a one-night stand. They'd all been casual dates that turned into spending the night which then turned into nonchalant dating -- he'd never done anything like this. Especially not the day before he's supposed to be getting married. 

Shit, he realizes, suddenly panicked. The sun was fully up in the sky; it must be mid-morning. He checks his phone and confirms that, yes, he's screwed for time. Baekhyun has less than an hour until he needs to be at a courthouse, looking his best. And here he is, hungover and wearing a stolen band t-shirt. 

He settles for writing a sloppy  _Urgent business. Thanks for last night!_ note and leaving it where he'd taken the shirt from. He thinks maybe it's a fair trade and scurries out of the apartment, feeling extremely guilty to that man for the exit and to his future husband for his, most likely, haggard appearance and attitude later. 

\-- 

Baekhyun made it home and showered as quickly as possible, pulling on a casual suit and styling his hair in a way that makes it look fluffy and soft. He's looking a little less corpse-y, he thinks with a small smile. Baekhyun worriedly looks out the window of the moving car, noticing that they're drawing nearer to the center of Seoul, to the meeting he's fated to attend in less than ten minutes. 

He tries to convince himself that he can do this, that he's fine, that it's  _no big deal!_

He's almost completely fooled himself into thinking that he'll be okay, that he'll survive this, when they pull up outside of the courthouse. He nods to the chauffeur in thanks, slipping out of the car and heading inside. It's a large, extremely old building. Baekhyun likes the architecture, the way the windows let the sun shine down the halls. It reminds him of the sun hitting him this morning, when he'd woken up in that foreign bed in a foreign situation. 

He shakes that thought off, focusing on finding the correct room, and he takes a deep breath when he's finally standing outside of door 4B. No big deal, he chants to himself one last time, and clicks the handle to the left. 

The room is full -- he recognizes his father, mother, and associates immediately, and then he muses that Park Chanyeol must've brought half of his country along, if the population of the small room is any indication. 

"Baekhyun," his father whispers in relief, obviously annoyed at his not coming home and almost being late. 

"Honey," his mother smiles brightly, her makeup all soft orange hues, making her look young and beautiufl. Baekhyun loves her so much, he thinks suddenly, and then he thinks about the future. He's scared. He's definitely scared. 

"Mom," Baekhyun starts to say, almost pitifully. He's actually considering backing out -- how could he do this? But his mom moves before he can, reaching out a small hand to get the attention of a man behind her. Baekhyun watches, stomach churning, as the man turns and smiles to her, familiar pretty lips and big ears moving with his greeting. 

"This is Chanyeol, your fiance," she says, hand on the man's elbow soft and loving, as if they'd grown close in the last twenty minutes.

Baekhyun feels the shock all the way in his toes, unable to do anything besides gape in surprise at the man he'd met last night, the man he'd held, the man he'd left this morning. 

"Oh, nice to meet you, Baekhyun," he says, knowing eyes and charming smile never wavering, despite the lie in his greeting. "I hope we have a happy life in the future." 

 


	2. two

Baekhyun stares at his plate of untouched food, stomach too volatile to handle any of it right now. He's embarrassed -- mortified -- to realize that the person he'd left that morning had been his fiance. He wasn't even supposed to be able to see Chanyeol on  _camera_ , but he'd been under him, on his bed, in his arms.

As if meeting again in formal circumstances, surrounded by palace officials and relatives, wasn't bad enough, Chanyeol seemed to think it was  _funny_. 

He'd been eyeing Baekhyun all morning, handsome face and charming smile tying a knot in the older boy's stomach. With the thought of signing his life away, most likely moving to a foreign country, and praying that Chanyeol won't let their secret slip, it's hard to focus on much. 

He feels Chanyeol shift in his chair next to him, finally finished with an excruciatingly long conversation about foreign policies with Baekhyun's father. It'd only been an hour since they signed the papers, and their families were already eating out together, discussing the business details of their "partnership," as Chanyeol's father called it. 

"Why didn't you have guards that night, no -- _there_?" Baekhyun whispers as quietly as he can. Chanyeol turns to make eye contact, brown eyes shining youth, radiance, power. It throws Baekhyun off as he wonders about how princely he looks just sitting there; he debates whether its natural or if he's been trained to look, to act, like that.

"Why would I have guards?" Chanyeol points out quietly, raising an eyebrow at his legal husband. "No one knows what I look like. Not even my fiance, apparently." 

Baekhyun's eyebrows shoot up threateningly, demanding that Chanyeol keeps his mouth shut, at least in front of his parents. He can't have his father find out and declare that he's ruined the marriage, ruined the company, ruined his life -- something which he would do, Baekhyun is positive. 

"No, your fiance didn't," Baekhyun confirms pointedly, jabbing a chopstick into his food.

"You know, when I first walked in," Chanyeol's voice drops lower. "You came up to me. And when you walked in today, and it was you again, I thought maybe it was all orchestrated. Thought you somehow found out and did all that on purpose." 

"Why would I orchestrate that?" 

It's a fair question, Chanyeol admits. 

"I don't know. Maybe you wanted to make it all seem like fate." 

"You think I _wanted_  this?" Baekhyun's voice is a hushed, angry whisper. "It wasn't my plan to do  _anything_  with my fiance that night. Maybe you're just paranoid about people plotting things. Not everyone cares about your royal blood or how to spill it." 

Baekhyun's comment seems to get to him for a second, because he opens his mouth in protest, about to respond, when a woman Baekhyun doesn't know calls out a soft "Prince Chanyeol!" 

Chanyeol laughs a little, his humor shining through, and he coughs the whisper out of his voice, back to a normal tone when he addresses his next conversational partner. It's fake, Baekhyun can tell, and he comes to the conclusion that maybe Chanyeol has just been trained to be charming after all. Baekhyun sighs and watches in something like pained delight the way Chanyeol is so handsome, so charismatic. 

He wasn't aware of who Chanyeol was that night, and Chanyeol has made it abundantly clear he wasn't aware of Baekhyun's identity either, but one thing was completely true: he'd approached Chanyeol out of interest. The interest didn't stop last night, although Baekhyun wishes it had. He chokes down a bite as he watches his husband confirm business deals and use his name as a bargaining tool. 

\--

"When will you be coming?" Chanyeol's voice is deep and regal when he asks, thick eyebrows furrowing at the pout on Baekhyun's lips. The smaller studies the way his ring-adorned fingers push through black hair, thoroughly messing it up. It's a shame, but with the fierce wind blowing around them, it was only a matter of time, really. 

"Tomorrow," Baekhyun responds, his tone despondent. "That's what my father said." 

Chanyeol seems to sense that he doesn't  _want_ to follow his husband back to his home country, doesn't want to leave, but he can't do much for the shorter. After all, it' s a deal, and the papers are signed. Instead, he offers Baekhyun a tiny smile and turns toward the helicopter, expensive scarf blowing into his face.

"I'll see you soon," he says, turning one last time to show his face to Baekhyun. He doesn't look particularly worried, although Baekhyun's heart jumps at the thought of getting on the helicopter in 24 short hours, of seeing him again. 

"Okay," Baekhyun simply says back, but he thinks it's all he can get out. 

He's climbing in before Baekhyun can blink, and then he's watching his husband leave from the rooftop of his father's company, only a contract and a faint memory of burning touches left behind. 

The day passes in a blur of packing, of his mother's tears and his father's proud smiles. Baekhyun has managed to fit his favorite clothes and prized possessions into four suitcases, yet it still feels like it's too little.

Baekhyun wants to fold Seoul's night landscape, wants to bottle the sound of his parents' footsteps, wants to keep the smell of his room preserved in a book. It hurts to think about leaving these little familiarities, and it seems like it's all moving too fast, like he doesn't even  _know_  Chanyeol. 

Well, he doesn't. But isn't that the point of an arranged marriage? he thinks, and regret bubbles viciously in his stomach, in his throat. 

In a haze of sleep and dream and hallucination, Baekhyun watches the sun rise in Seoul one last time, studies the way day breaks over skyscrapers. He listens for his mom to walk past, telling something to a maid, the sound of her questioning what's on the morning news. He memorizes the way the water breaks over his back when he showers, the sound of his lamp shutting off one last time. 

Then he's giving his mom hugs and sharing awkward smiles with his dad, hair still wet, hands shaky. He's on the private plane in what feels like minutes, slightly lightheaded and entirely too sleepy. It's barely an hour flight, but it feels like an eternity, feels like Baekhyun's lost half of his life waiting for this plane to land. 

\--

He's being escorted through arches of white stone surrounded by blooming flowers and trees. Everything is bursting with vibrancy, a stark difference to the plain ivory colored stone that the palace is made out of. The entire island smells like the sea and flowers, like the vacations Baekhyun used to take with his family. But this isn't a vacation -- it's his new home, the place he needs to adjust to, and he can't breathe. 

He's fascinated in the way the sun reflects on the white stone, on the pale marble that makes up the floor. There's barely any wall to the palace; it's all windows, natural light seeping in through translucent peach curtains, tinting the entire building a soft, warm hue, like bottled sunshine. Instead of thick, wooden doors (like the medieval castle Baekhyun had been fearing) the rooms are sectioned off with the same tall arches, all engraved with scenes of nature, painted with watercolors. 

It's beautiful, Baekhyun thinks, and he sucks in a sharp breath when he sees his husband only two room lengths away, talking to a girl. The windows in that room are open, if the soft breeze ruffling Chanyeol's hair gives any indication. 

The prince is as handsome as Baekhyun had remembered, but he's also is in his element now, and the soft orange hue on his golden skin makes Baekhyun's palms grow sweaty. He's at home, and he looks like he truly belongs here, Baekhyun notes.

"Prince Chanyeol, behind you," the girl says, voice high and slightly accented. She speaks perfect Korean, but Baekhyun detects that there might be a dialect she's using, unique to their country, to their people. It's lilting and beautiful, and Baekhyun wonders if Chanyeol hid it in favor of a Seoul dialect when they'd first met. 

Her words seem to alert the prince to Baekhyun's presence, now close enough to make direct eye contact. His smile is tiny and sweet at Baekhyun, and he raises his arms in a welcoming gesture. 

"You've arrived safely," Chanyeol says it formally, almost awkwardly, and Baekhyun watches him restrain himself from being the way he'd always been around him. He's in his element, yes, but he's also on princely duty; he's being fake. Baekhyun decides he hates it. 

Baekhyun remains silent because he's scared to make a mistake, to be too formal or informal. He doesn't know anything about how Chanyeol's country wants their royals' consorts to act, especially not when he's only just arrived. 

"This is my cousin," Chanyeol says suddenly, as if he only just remembered the girl next to him. Baekhyun notices that he lets a hint of the dialect peek through. "Princess Bae Joohyun. She's lived in my family's residence for years, however, so she is like an older sister. I thought you'd want to meet her." 

Baekhyun bows his head, hoping that it's the correct thing to do, and meets Chanyeol's eyes. He's smiling, almost laughing, obviously elated at how awfully awkward Baekhyun feels. 

The smaller feels a bubble of anxiety pop in his stomach, as if some fear had evaporated at the face Chanyeol made, as if he's less worried about the sudden change in his life because, at the very least, he knows that Chanyeol smiles at him. 

He acts fake, and he's a little annoying, but Baekhyun likes the way he smiles, especially when he's covered in sunlight. 

"Nice to meet you," she says. Her hair is soft but her eyes are sharp, with small red lips that are curled into a smile; she's fatally beautiful. Baekhyun thinks of Yuri, pictures his mom, and he knows that there is something about her that is familiar and sweet, yet wholly new.

That's how he thinks of this entire country -- new, yet familiar. He sees Chanyeol in each ray of golden light, sees Joohyun in each flower, sees Korea in each wave of the ocean, in every word spoken.  

"I'll show you around," Chanyeol offers, and suddenly he's moving toward his husband, elbow extended as an offering. Baekhyun takes it, a little surprised at the gentleness, and bows goodbye to the workers who had walked him in, to the princess. 

They walk slowly through open hallways, through what feels like a hundred arches, and Chanyeol points out what each room is. Baekhyun doesn't think he'll remember anything that's said, but he likes walking after the flight, likes the way the setting sun reflects on the pale surfaces in the palace. 

"This is my family's residence," Chanyeol says after a few moments of silence, walking past the kitchen and dining room. "There's a bigger palace where the heirs to the throne live. Ours is more out of the way." 

" _Bigger_  than this?" Baekhyun has been raised in wealth, gotten everything he'd ever hoped for, but never like this. "Isn't that just excessive?" 

Chanyeol shrugs, and Baekhyun's arm moves with him. It serves as a reminder that they're connected by the elbow, and Baekhyun's mind flashes to the fact that they're  _married_. It's surreal, and he honestly can't wrap his head around it. 

"It's weird," Baekhyun whispers, fearful that there are more people listening to their conversations than he can see. Chanyeol's pace slows and he looks worried, handsome face forming a frown. 

"What is?" Chanyeol matches his whisper, and Baekhyun feels like he's walking through a fairytale, like he's on an adventure. 

"We're married. It doesn't seem real," Baekhyun's voice sounds a little distant, almost as if he's not really sure that he's here right now. "I knew I'd get married for business, but I didn't expect to be so  _fast_. We're married. Isn't that weird? It's weird." 

Chanyeol's arm stiffens in Baekhyun's grip and he nods his head softly, considering. Baekhyun watches emotions spin in his eyes, watches him lick his lips out of nervousness. 

"We don't have to act married," Chanyeol's voice sounds sheepish. "We can just . . . you know, be friends." 

Baekhyun tries to think of how many of his friends he's slept with and comes up with zero, but he keeps quiet on that. Maybe living in a beautiful country with a handsome friend could be okay, maybe it'd be an adventure.

Baekhyun's mind keeps screaming about the drop in his stomach the first time he'd seen Chanyeol, about the way he'd immediately felt attracted. It was the alcohol, he's sure, because he no longer feels that burning need -- just warmth, a slight tug on his heart when Chanyeol smiles. That was normal, right? 

"You're all I have in this country," Baekhyun points out, voice low and slightly sad. Chanyeol gulps. "I'd like it if we could be friends." 

Chanyeol nods hesitantly, something like disappointment sinking in his stomach, and he watches golden shadows play across Baekhyun's cheekbones. 

\-- 

Baekhyun moves into Chanyeol's room that night. It's very open, with white walls, a dark wood floor, and a bay window larger than even the bed. There are sky blue accents everywhere, giving the room the feeling of early morning peace, of sleepy laughter. It's fitting, Baekhyun thinks, to associate Chanyeol with early morning hues, with gentle touches. 

It's almost understood that they will share the bed, since there's no reason not to, especially now that they've decided to get along. It's not like they haven't shared before, after all, Baekhyun thinks with a red hue on his cheeks.

Baekhyun watches from his side of the bed as Chanyeol open a few windows, letting a warm breeze seep into the room. The taller hops into bed right after, burrowing under covers in the least-princely fashion Baekhyun could've imagined. His hair is down and messy and he looks incredibly young, like an actual college student, not someone who's been privately tutored and trained since he could talk. Baekhyun likes this side of him -- the soft, friendly one, the one who doesn't have to fake anything.

"So? What do you think?" 

Baekhyun startles, fearing that Chanyeol was inquiring about his staring only a moment before. He opens his mouth and closes it again, too focused on the taller's dark eyes watching him in their fond way. 

"About the palace, the country, everything, I mean." 

Baekhyun is relieved, suddenly thankful that Chanyeol doesn't pry on why he is so fascinated by his features, or how his fingers are tingling with a want to trace the slope of his cheek. 

"It's beautiful," Baekhyun breathes out. He means it, really. He's not pleased with the quickness of their marriage, with the way he's left his city, but he's amazed at the island around him, at the boy next to him. "I don't miss Seoul yet, at least." 

"I liked Seoul," Chanyeol comments. "I'd love to go back someday." 

Chanyeol is hinting at something unsaid, but Baekhyun can understand it loud and clear: _We can go anytime you want._

Baekhyun can't stop watching the shadows from the moon on Chanyeol's cheek, can't take his eyes off of the way his eyelashes frame his eyes, the way his lips part when he's laying on his side. He's so handsome, so magnetic, and he wants to kiss him -- but that's not what friends do, he chides himself.

"Do you think people are okay with me?" Baekhyun asks suddenly, preoccupied with the troubling thoughts of Chanyeol's big hands only inches away. 

"What?" Chanyeol's voice drops deeper, confused, worried. 

"Korea isn't exactly the most accepting country," Baekhyun says it pointedly, and Chanyeol understands what he means. "Are . . . Are people okay with this marriage? Will people hate me?" 

Chanyeol shakes his head fervently, as if he's agitated. 

"No," his voice is urgent. "My great uncle, the king, is a very accepting man, and my people are accepting. Our marriage is revolutionary for its high status, not for the people involved. No one will hate you." 

Baekhyun feels more relief and he almost wants to cry, thinking about how  _scared_ he was back home to even tell his family. 

"I never told my parents," Baekhyun says abruptly, quietly. "I was too scared to tell them I liked men. They chose me to marry you because it was good for business -- not because they thought I'd fall in love with you. They didn't know." 

Chanyeol gets quiet then, a solemn kind of silence that only ensues when a secret is shared. It seems to stretch between them for a moment, as if time is frozen. Baekhyun isn't sure if this it's comfortable silence or just silence, but he likes the way Chanyeol's breathing sounds mixed with the sound of nature. 

"Do you think you'll fall in love with me?" 

It's such a sudden, intimate question that Baekhyun chokes on air, wheezing. 

"I'm just checking. We're married; you're allowed to." 

Baekhyun doesn't answer out of fear of what his answer could be. It's too soon to think about that, to think about the way Chanyeol's eyes make him feel. The taller boy notices that the question isn't reciprocated, but he thinks he knows the answer, if only in his mind. 

There's something different now, with the conversation ended. It's peaceful in the dark with the crashing of waves in so close, with Chanyeol's body heat so close to his. The sheets aren't silk and cold, not like his bed in Seoul, but they're just as soft and very warm, almost like the sunshine heated them all day, the residual heat and smell of flowers infused. 

Baekhyun knows that he's taking a chance, but he wants to feel Chanyeol's warm hands on him again, wants to touch the lips he'd been thinking about constantly. He shimmies closer to Chanyeol, close enough for their breaths to mingle, for Chanyeol to whisper something quiet about meeting a lot of important people tomorrow, about needing to buy rings, about how soft Baekhyun's hair is. 

"Can I?" Chanyeol's voice is deep but not rough, sugarcoated with honey and flowers. Baekhyun nods and gentle hands transfer heat to Baekhyun's cheeks with gentle caresses. 

It's slow when they kiss, nothing like the time in the club, nothing like the night before they truly met. It's languid like the waves hitting the waves, gentle like the breeze across the courtyard of the palace, tender like the look in Chanyeol's eyes when he smiles.

"Friends can have benefits, right?" Baekhyun whispers against his husband's open mouth, fidgeting with the buttons on Chanyeol's pajama shirt. The wind picks up, as if urging him on, and Chanyeol groans a little, pulling him close in the darkness, hands eager like the night they'd first kissed in the middle of the dance floor. 

Baekhyun lets Chanyeol hold him, feels a little more at home when Chanyeol's familiar lips are kissing down his neck, when his hands grow eager, when they move as one in the cover of night, the sound of waves mingling with breathless moans and whispered comforts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you like! i'm hoping for this to be a strangers to friends... to friends w benefits to lovers... thing........lowkey slow burn..........suffering.....royal au............ with  ~~drama~~ thrown in? lol
> 
> feedback is appreciated!!! love you guys, gotta go do my homework!


	3. three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: bad smut ahead lmfao

Baekhyun moans quietly into the mouth opened against his, brain registering the way Chanyeol's hands leave his skin tingling, the way they light him up with fire. They're rough to the touch, but the way the taller man drags them languidly across his shoulders, waist, hips -- it feels soft, somehow.  

Everything is this way with Chanyeol. He's a paradox of a man, and Baekhyun has tried to figure him out, but he always comes up short of the answer. Chanyeol thinks one way and acts another, tells Baekhyun to be more formal and then pins him against a wall when the dining room is empty, smiles cordially but talks bad about people behind their backs.

He's one big lie, but he's one that Baekhyun can't bring himself to try and decode. He's pieced together the puzzle of the path Chanyeol's fingers trail down his stomach, of what makes Chanyeol squeeze his eyes shut in pleasure, and maybe that's the best he can do, for now. 

"You know, I really don't think we're doing this friends thing right," Chanyeol says jokingly, in the shaky voice only Baekhyun hears.

He looks down at his husband from where he's sitting, straddling, Chanyeol, and watches the moonlight shift over his tan face. He's as stunning as ever, somehow even more so when Baekhyun knows he's the only other person allowed in this room, that he's the only one with the privilege of seeing Chanyeol covered in shadows.

"You make me laugh a lot, even when I shouldn't," Baekhyun says, punctuated by an unhurried kiss. "Friends do that." 

Chanyeol smiles against his lips, a silent agreement, before he's pulling back slowly. Baekhyun feels the soft breeze pick up outside, the smell in the air alerting him that it'll rain soon -- his heart pangs, since he thinks of Seoul more when the weather is bad. When the rolling ocean and golden sun turns dark and ugly, there's less to distract himself with, and he thinks about the gloomy hue that evening in Seoul used to cast into his room. 

"Do you think we're doing a good job of acting like husbands?" Chanyeol breaks his thoughts. If Baekhyun was a wave, he'd come crashing down now, sudden weather change and this question leaving him crestfallen. He doesn't know  _why_  it hurts to hear it said like that -- they are acting -- but it does. 

Baekhyun studies the earnest look in Chanyeol's eyes and shrugs lightly, moving closer to him once again, so that his breath ghosts over Chanyeol's cheeks, so that their noses rub together when he answers. 

"Husbands do," Baekhyun closes his eyes and waits. Chanyeol's lips find his quickly and pull him in with a groan, just as expected. " _that_." 

Baekhyun's stomach is full of waves of confusion, of homesickness, of questions that linger in his mind. But he pushes them aside and focuses on staying above the water level, on the way Chanyeol's hands anchor him to the shore, to the feeling of lips dusting across his chest, of Chanyeol's fingers pushing inside of him in that rough way. 

He focuses on the scorching heat that Chanyeol brings, on the way they rock back and forth, on the way the bed moves as if the breeze shakes it. He trails a finger down Chanyeol's cheek and lets it stay there, even as their movements become faster, even as Baekhyun's body grinds against his husband's in a way that's almost impulsive. 

Baekhyun isn't sure if he can trust Chanyeol, since he's watched him lie and not bat an eye, but when his hands are cradling Baekhyun's hips in that searing way, nothing matters. Those strong hands are helping him move, allowing him to push down at Chanyeol harder, faster, in a way that makes his voice crack. Then the fingers and hushed kisses are replaced with a familiar heat, with faces buried in necks, with strained whimpers.  

"Baekhyun," he says it in a way that sounds like his voice is breaking, like that's the last word he wants to mumble out before it's gone.

Baekhyun feels heat pool in his stomach and he nods at his own name, moving his hips rapidly as an answer. He lets Chanyeol hold them, lets Chanyeol guide him down, lets Chanyeol's fingers leave faint bruises on his waist. Baekhyun's breathing comes out as ragged moans and whispers of Chanyeol's name, and suddenly the ocean's storm-ridden waves are loud in his ears, the sound of the whipping wind muddling his brain, only one thing clear in his mind: more, more, more. 

Chanyeol moves up to meet his hips, strong hands resting against the small of his back, parted lips nipping at his neck. Baekhyun tilts his head back and allows for access, adoring the way Chanyeol immediately nuzzles into the crook there, thrusts never slowing. 

"Please," Baekhyun's voice comes out whiny, and usually he'd be embarrassed, but feeling the harsh grip on his hips and the tongue attached to his neck, there's no embarrassment left to be had. "Please." 

Chanyeol nods, even though Baekhyun hadn't specified, and pushes the shorter man onto his back, bodies connected the entire time. With Chanyeol hovering over him, Baekhyun revels in the way the pale light shines over his back, his hair, his features.

The way it makes him feel is a lot to take in, so instead he plants a soft kiss on Chanyeol's forearm -- the one holding him up by Baekhyun's head -- and closes his eyes, mouth open and panting. 

The kiss stirs Chanyeol on, and soon Chanyeol's pushing so hard, so fast, that Baekhyun's almost screaming out, that there's electricity flowing in between their bodies, an unspoken need spilling out like the white that stains Chanyeol's sheets. The taller man shudders and Baekhyun feels the burning heat disappear, replaced by the warmth of Chanyeol's body next to his, by gentle kisses to the top of his head and cheek.

For a second, it almost feels like something real, but then Baekhyun hears a crack of thunder from outside, and the illusion is shattered. 

\--

"This is Baekhyun, my husband," Chanyeol introduces, soft grip on Baekhyun's waist tightening slightly. Baekhyun acts like he doesn't notice, especially when he feels six pairs of eyes train on him. 

"Nice to meet you, your highnesses," Baekhyun says and he drops his head immediately, leaning into a deep bow. Chanyeol lets go of his waist to allow him to do it, though Baekhyun can feel the hand hovering above his lower back in uncertainty.

Chanyeol had told him to not be  _too_  formal with his cousins, since it was likely that they'd only get more embarrassed, but Baekhyun can see elders watching their interaction. He can't be rude and not bow, especially with all those old people keeping an eye on him. 

"There's no need to bow," says one. He's short, with a round little face, and Baekhyun thinks that he looks nothing like Chanyeol, not even in the slightest.

Baekhyun pulls himself back up to standing height, still a few inches shorter than Chanyeol, but taller than at least a couple of the men before him -- that's good, he thinks, to not be the shortest  _and_  the newcomer.

"Minseok is right; there's no need to bow," Chanyeol agrees, a genuine smile coming out for the first time in front of guests. Baekhyun tries not to stare at the way it glimmers, so he refocuses and studies the men before him once again out of necessity. "Only Junmyeon is actually in line for the throne -- the rest of us are three or four or _ten_  degrees from being king." 

Baekhyun's eyebrows raise, and he searches the group for the aforementioned man, but no one is giving any indication that they're Junmyeon, at least not in an obvious way.

"Junmyeon is out of the country for business affairs," Chanyeol supplies quickly, nodding to the rest of his cousins. "That's why there's no need to bow at all." 

 _Oh._ Baekhyun feels a little foolish now, but they all smile genially at him, as if it's cute, as if they like him. He's scared to be judged by a group of complete strangers, but in his current position, he'll soon have an entire country judging him, so what's a few family members, really? 

"Why don't you introduce yourselves?" Chanyeol prompts, comforting hand reaching around to hold Baekhyun's side as gently as the way his hair blows in the wind. Baekhyun settles into it unconsciously, thankful for the transition away from Junmyeon and to the six men standing before him. 

"I'm Kim Jongin," someone speaks up, voice deep and a little cautious. Baekhyun's head shoots up, ready to memorize names and faces and voices -- he  _needs_  to be able to recognize them; Chanyeol had made that clear this morning, when he explained the importance of royal connections while choosing what tie to wear.

The man -- Jongin -- looks young, with bronzed skin and slicked back hair. He looks like he jumped out of a painting, an Adonis among men, but there's something shifting in his eyes, as though he doesn't live up to the charming expectations set for him. He's  _shy_ , Baekhyun realizes, and he thinks it's almost comical how the most confident face ended up with a reserved personality.

Baekhyun bows in greeting, and the next three introduce themselves -- Kim Jongdae, Jongin's older brother, who's loud and silly and greets each worker by name as they pass; Kim Minseok, who's  _not_  brothers with either of the other Kims, he promises, and who is the oldest and the kindest, in a way that makes Baekhyun feel comfortable to be around him; and Zhang Yixing, a distant cousin who thinks Baekhyun is very charming (he tells him this) and who paints in his free time (he shows Baekhyun a picture on his phone, to which Baekhyun says it's amazing, and he blushes.) 

Chanyeol is beaming next to him, hand relaxed on his hip, and Baekhyun meets his eyes, suddenly wanting to kiss the taller. But he knows that he can't, not in public, and not when they're nothing but friends -- even with benefits, it's too couple-y to kiss for no other reason. So is holding each other by the waist, but Baekhyun digresses.

The last two are opposites of each other, with one tall and one short, one giving a wide smile and one awkwardly curving his lips up, evidently a little uncomfortable. Chanyeol's hand tightens and he pulls Baekhyun closer. The shorter doesn't know why, but he has a feeling it has to do with the tall boy, the one with a grin and eyes that light up when you look too close.

The first introduces himself as Do Kyungsoo, third in line to the throne and first on the list of Chanyeol's favorite cousins. It makes Chanyeol laugh, which brings a pinkish hue to Baekhyun's cheeks, too, relieved at Chanyeol's mood calming because of the humor. Kyungsoo is short, kind of adorable, and seems kind, although Baekhyun notices that he's quiet when it comes to actually  _talking_ , he's nice enough, and he seems to try extra hard to take the attention away from the tall boy next to him.

"I'm Oh Sehun," says the taller one. He can't be more than twenty-one,  _maybe_  twenty-two, Baekhyun thinks. "I'm pleased to meet your acquaintence."

His voice comes out saccharine, almost too fond for a first meeting, but Baekhyun likes the way he stands out in this room, the way the breeze from the open windows bends around him. 

While Chanyeol is golden and curved, soft to the touch but rough on the edges, this boy is pale and angular. His jawline is striking, with cheekbones covered in a pale glow, an air of elegance rolling off with each look. He looks dangerous, regal in a way that Baekhyun hadn't considered since he'd come to the island. His idea of royalty was flowing curtains, warm colors, soft touches. But this man looks like lace, like ivory sculptures against a backdrop of jewel toned carpets. 

Baekhyun bows his head only a little, well aware this time that he doesn't  _need_  to, but he feels like it's only polite, especially when they're all technically royalty. 

Then a feminine voice calls out Chanyeol's name, making his husband turn away to look for the source. It's Joohyun, and she's waving at the group of men excitedly, eyes lighting up. Today she's in an emerald gown (she's accessorized with pearls) and Baekhyun sucks in a breath when she walks by smelling like expensive champagne. She's always sophisticated and so stunning; Baekhyun misses his mother suddenly. 

"It's almost time for the ballroom dancing," Joohyun reminds softly, her pretty eyes turning to look at him pointedly. "I was wondering if I could have Baekhyun as a partner." 

Baekhyun is shocked, but he nods anyway, thrilled to be in good graces with Princess Joohyun. He can't imagine why she would _want_  to dance with him, when she has seven cousins standing right there and countless men in the room, all more experienced than him. Sure, Baekhyun knows how to dance -- he'd been to many an opening gala -- but he isn't the most graceful, the tallest, the most charming by far. 

Chanyeol's hand lets go of him and his waist feels empty for a second, but then Joohyun is reaching for his hand with delicate fingers, a warm smile gracing her face. 

"C'mon," she says softly, her high voice dropping an octave in order to whisper. "Let's save you from Chanyeol and Sehun." 

Only Chanyeol seems to hear, blushing red and staring at the floor for a moment, though Baekhyun doesn't think he looks angry. Maybe ashamed, maybe embarrassed, but never angry.

They make their way towards the far side of the room, to the section that's completely circular, away from the banquet hall and the abundant flower displays. Here, the pale orange light and glittering paintings are all Baekhyun can see. The open windows and glass dome on the ceiling allow sunlight to seep into the room, blinding him from anything besides warmth and the soft twinkle of piano keys from the corner.

Soon there's string instruments joining in, and suddenly they're spinning in a dance that Baekhyun doesn't know. Joohyun is leading, and she's confident and soaring and beautiful, like the tiny bird Baekhyun had watched from a window this morning, like the people he's seen dive from cliffs to land in salty water. Joohyun dips herself down and pulls herself back up, landing snugly in Baekhyun's unexperienced arms again, an amused smile on her face. 

"Chanyeol told me you could dance," she teases, moving his hand from it's limp position on her waist to grasp firmly on the curve between her waist and hip. "I guess he lied."

Baekhyun sputters, "I know  _ballroom_  dances, the ones we do in Seoul. I don't know these dances." 

Joohyun lifts and arm and spins around, green dress twirling in a hoop of chiffon, and Baekhyun watches as the tiers of pearls dangling from her ears whirl, too. 

"Are we not in a ballroom right now?" 

She's right, and so he nods and mimics her steps, trying to keep up in the twirling dance. Baekhyun feels like he's getting drunk off the scent of flowers in the air, the lingering smell of champagne from Joohyun, the way they're spinning in a cloud of couples and laughter. 

The music winds down slowly, into something that's soft and delicate and led solely by a violin. It's a slow song, obviously for lovers, but Joohyun pays it no mind -- she pulls farther away from Baekhyun, a comfortable distance, and she gives him a fond smile. 

"Thank you for marrying Chanyeol. He probably doesn't show it, but he's happy you're here. He was tired of being locked in this place, alone, for years." 

Baekhyun tilts his head, confused, and repeats _locked up locked up locked up_ and _alone alone alone_ in his mind, trying to think of what she's implying. He comes up blank and Joohyun turns them around to match the other couples, her head resting lightly on his shoulder in a friendly display of affection.  

"What do you mean, alone?" Baekhyun whispers as he turns them again, trying to keep pace with the others on the dance floor. Joohyun stills a little, obviously confused, and she lifts her head to look Baekhyun in the eyes. 

"Did he not tell you?" her eyebrows are furrowed and she looks almost angry, as if Chanyeol has betrayed her by leaving this vital detail out. Baekhyun shakes his head, no, suddenly worried. 

Sure, he and Chanyeol laughed, kissed, fucked -- but they're just friends, and very new friends at that. He knows there's no reason that Chanyeol has to tell him his deepest, darkest secrets, but then again, they're _married_. He thinks about all of the times it'd been just the two of them, laying in the dark, talking about nothing. Couldn't he have brought it up? What  _was_  it? What did Joohyun mean? 

"I shouldn't be the one to tell you," Joohyun says resolutely, face still pinched in frustration. "I'm sorry for bringing it up." 

Baekhyun realizes that they're at least three steps behind the other dancers and so he spins them around quickly, liking the way the silly move brings a slight smile back to her face.

He can't be angry at Joohyun for accidentally bringing it up and, no matter how much the questions claw at his throat, he knows he can't blame Chanyeol from keeping anything from him. He'd known it from the start -- Chanyeol lies, Chanyeol is good at faking, and Chanyeol has secrets.

Their marriage is a business deal, and their friendship is in place to keep them from having to face the reality of marriage. The things they do, they do out of pure attraction, as if they'd just met at a club, as if they were getting married tomorrow, too scared to face the truth, time and time again.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure he'll tell me about it soon." 

Baekhyun hopes he sounds confident.

The song ends on a peaceful note, and couples shuffle off the dance floor hand in hand, voices hushed and talking about the lavish decorations, about the fact that it'd been years since they were invited to something in this palace. Joohyun removes herself from him, a bashful, sad smile thrown his way in an apologetic way.

Before Baekhyun can think about telling her that it truly is fine, there's a firm hand on his shoulder. It's definitely not Joohyun, and it's certainly not Chanyeol, but he's still shocked when he barely recognizes the new face: Oh Sehun. His sugary sweet smile is right there, charming and sincere, and his hand is insistent, unwavering. 

"May I have the next dance?"

Baekhyun glances to Joohyun, whose eyes look as if they might pop out of their eyeshadowed sockets, but she won't make eye contact with him back. It's as if she wants to avoid Sehun, too, and it only makes the anxiety in Baekhyun's stomach crash together like waves on rocks, like the violent seas when it storms. He can't turn him  _down_ , not when they just met and he's a prince and the next song is about to be played. 

Baekhyun nods and lets Sehun take his arm, winding it around his waist like Chanyeol had done minutes before, only this time it's tighter, more controlling. Chanyeol had felt like an anchor for him, something to keep him grounded, but Baekhyun wasn't sure if he could even move with the way Sehun was holding him. 

"I saw you and Joohyun dance," Sehun comments as the music starts. He twists Baekhyun, leading in a different way than Joohyun had, in a way that makes it feel as though they're one, as if their bodies are melded together in the sun. "You definitely need someone to show you the ropes." 

Baekhyun isn't sure if he's interpreting the suggestive tone that Sehun used correctly, but he definitely feels as though this _isn't_  a welcoming, comforting dance like the one with Joohyun. It's definitely something else, but Baekhyun tries to ignore the nagging voice inside of his brain, tries to tell himself that Sehun's being friendly to the new guy, that this is fine.

Chanyeol's face, however, when they return after the dance, tells him it's anything but.

And when Baekhyun moves to be by his side, Chanyeol loops an arm around his waist in a way he'd never done before, as if he's protecting, not just guiding, and Baekhyun's thoughts run rampant with Chanyeol's secrets and Sehun's touches and the sun setting in the distance. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohohohoho?? juicy?  how are yall feeling about the plot...... and the relationships...... ? heheeheh 
> 
> i hope you like! feedback is always appreciated! (also: sorry. im not a sexy type of person. i tried my best w the beginning of the chapter)


	4. four

The hand becomes a constant on Baekhyun's waist. By early evening, it begins to feel as though Chanyeol's warm fingers wrapped around the curve of his stomach is natural in public -- as if that's how they're supposed to be. It's nice, especially when Sehun leaves to talk to someone and Chanyeol's hand doesn't budge. 

"What's going on between you two?" Baekhyun asks against the shell of Chanyeol's ear, low enough that others can't hear. It's a rather vague question to pose in a ballroom filled with at least a hundred people, but the taller has no issue figuring out the parties involved. 

"It's a long story," Chanyeol says, lips drawn and eyebrows straight. "Just don't talk to him." 

Baekhyun watches him from Chanyeol's side. Sehun is tall and charming and gorgeous, he has to admit, but there's something about the glint in his eye that makes Baekhyun believe his husband's words. Not that he  _wants_  to, not when he thinks about the secrets Chanyeol's keeping, about the possible lies he's fed him. 

"Why shouldn't I talk to him?" Baekhyun challenges because, honestly, he wants Chanyeol to open up, even if it's through anger.

The husband that looks at him through hooded eyes and peppers kisses down his neck is a different person than the husband in public, the one who glares at his cousin, the one whose hand trails away from Baekhyun's waist at the question.

He wants to see both sides of Chanyeol, wants to feel the same warmth from the taller's smile in every setting. He wants to  _know_  his husband, but it seems like too much to ask, he supposes. 

Baekhyun tries not to let the absence of the hand affect his defiant gaze, tries to avoid letting it dim any fire in his eyes.

"He's not a good person. He never comes to events I'm present at -- he's only here to toy around with you --" 

" _Toy around with me_?" Baekhyun feels heat rising to his cheeks. Suddenly  _he's_  mad, and maybe it's because of the way Chanyeol's hand is completely gone from him, from the way Chanyeol is glaring at him like it's his fault. As if Baekhyun had made the choice to come here, to marry him, to entice his cousin -- as if he'd  _planned_ it.

"Baekhyun." 

Chanyeol's voice is stern and a little angry, but it doesn't move Baekhyun, not when he thinks about the fact that he doesn't even fucking  _know_  his husband. He's in a foreign country, married to a royal, and he doesn't  _know him_. 

"You're the one toying around with me, and you know it," Baekhyun bites the inside of his cheek before resuming, "Being married to someone I don't know is scary, and I'm glad we chose to be friends, but only knowing half of you is worse. I've told you all about Seoul, about my favorite things, about the places I used to go in the summer, about the business that I'll inherit -- and the entire time, you've been silent." 

Chanyeol's face darkens. He suddenly doesn't look like young, soft Chanyeol. He doesn't look like the man who runs fingers through Baekhyun's hair and sleeps with the window open because he loves the way birds sound. 

"I don't have interesting childhood memories or dreams. I like hearing you talk about it. Is that not allowed?" 

"Friendship is a two-way street.  _Marriage_  is a two-way street, Chanyeol."

Baekhyun looks away to stare out the window at the setting sun. He's being dramatic and he knows it, but something about the way Chanyeol had insinuated Sehun's intentions and Baekhyun's acceptance, the way he'd looked at him with such anger, it had set him off. 

"I know that it's a two-way street, I'm trying -- you don't even know how hard it is to make sure that you're okay while I'm working, to keep you safe from any reporters trying to get into the palace, to keep my fucking _cousin_ from eating you alive --" 

"You're right, I don't know how hard it is. Because you never tell me anything," waves crash in Baekhyun's stomach. "I just want you to trust me with something." 

The air goes tense around them, and suddenly Baekhyun is aware of the looks they're receiving from Yixing and Jongdae, perplexed and a little worried. They're too far away to have heard the couple's quiet dispute, but it's enough to make the shorter feel embarrassed. His first function as Chanyeol's husband and they're arguing in public -- not a good track record, he chides himself. 

Chanyeol is deathly silent; Baekhyun is too scared to see the look on his face. He knows if the taller seems hurt, he'll regret lashing out. And if he's met with Chanyeol's cold glare, he's positive he'll only get angry once again.  

Until this evening, Baekhyun had only seen him use that glare on others -- it's the face Chanyeol puts on when he's being firm, when he's faking dominance around a crowd of people -- and Baekhyun hates it. Hates the way it makes his forehead crinkle, the way he looks older and angrier and sadder, hates that he's the reason it's come out this time. 

Before he can force himself to look at his husband, though, there's a distraction. The song changes to something loud and fast and upbeat -- and there's a now-familiar face close to his in less than a second, Minseok's eyes bright and clear. 

"Baekhyun, do you want to dance with my sister? She normally dances with Chanyeol, but she said that you're prettier." 

Said man doesn't have much of a choice, not when there's a little girl tugging at his wrist with small, soft hands. She's adorable, Baekhyun thinks, and his mind flashes to the image of Chanyeol twirling her around on the dance floor. It warms him, despite the residual anger, despite the way Chanyeol's words had cut through him moments before. 

"Of course, I'd love to dance with a princess," Baekhyun says it in a silly voice, noticing the way the little girl, Minseok, and Chanyeol all laugh at it. 

He lets himself get dragged to the center of the dance floor and tries his best to keep up with the dance -- without Sehun or Joohyun here to lead, it's a bit harder, especially with a six year old standing on his feet. When it's over and she plants a small kiss on his cheek, he acts shy and kisses the top of her hand like a true gentleman. 

The song changes again, but this time it's something familiar, something that Baekhyun had heard playing during the signing of their papers. It's soft and sweet, piano melted together with the occasional cello, like floating on a cloud.

"Oh, it's Chanyeol's song!" the little girl squeals as she runs off in search of the tall man.

The song slows down, as if going in slow motion, and only picks up again when the click-clack of the child's dress shoes can be heard making their way toward Baekhyun. He's frozen in place when she returns with his husband, smiling and hopping the entire way, poofy sky blue dress leaping with her. The whole room had paused for his arrival with bated breath and a sedate melody.

Chanyeol takes his hand softly and starts moving them to the center of the room. Baekhyun feels something in the way Chanyeol's looking at him, a hint of hurt, and Baekhyun's fears are confirmed: he'd made Chanyeol more sad than angry, and it's awful.

When they're finally in the middle, Baekhyun notices that the sun is finally setting, that there's a lilac tint over Chanyeol's features, that the marble floor is glimmering -- there must be amethyst imbedded, Baekhyun thinks, but then Chanyeol is leading him and he can't focus. 

It's a familiar dance for Baekhyun -- a waltz -- and he's _confused_. 

"Why are we dancing a waltz? There's been no ballroom dances all night," Baekhyun whispers. Chanyeol pulls him closer, like they had never quarreled, like Baekhyun's voice was the breaking point of his self control.

"It's my song," Chanyeol mumbles against his hair. "Every royal receives a song as a gift when they're born -- a melody created by the king for them." 

Baekhyun thinks that's a beautiful idea, especially when he connects the piano's chords to Chanyeol, when he focuses only on the way his husband is so close to him. It makes his anger dissipate and, god, he should be  _angry_ , but there's something about the way Chanyeol had looked wounded, the way he'd pulled him close immediately, that makes him pause. 

"It's lovely," Baekhyun says honestly, voice thick with some emotion he can't decipher. 

"It means that only my partner and I are dancing." At Chanyeol's words, Baekhyun takes a quick look around, noting that, yes, they're the only ones on the floor. There's so many people  _watching_  them. "Since we're at my palace, it also means it's the last dance of the night." 

Baekhyun stays quiet for the remainder of the song. The cello and Chanyeol's breathing mix together, lulling him into a trance, and all he can think about is the way Chanyeol looks doused in purple light, piano twinkling in the background, all harshness in his eyes melted away. 

\--

That night is quiet, like the snores that slip out when Chanyeol is extremely tired. The tranquility of the night, though, doesn't entrance Baekhyun -- at least not the way Chanyeol's noises do. Instead, it leaves him laying awake, unable to sleep no matter how many times he counts the moles on Chanyeol's arm (the only thing he can make out in the dark).

"Baekhyun, are you awake?" 

It scares him, since he'd thought Chanyeol was asleep, quiet and calm like always.

They'd come back to their room after the ball in somewhat of a daze. Baekhyun had showered and immediately curled up in bed, exhausted, confused about the way he'd snapped at the taller earlier, about the way Sehun had squeezed his hand goodnight.

But Chanyeol had shut off the lights for Baekhyun and left again, headed toward the ballroom, making sure all of the guests were headed home before he'd showered. Nearly an hour later, he took his spot next to the shorter silently, as if not to disturb him, breaths evening out in the dark room within minutes. Not even enough, Baekhyun realizes, when Chanyeol speaks.

"I'm awake." 

"My favorite color is blue -- cobalt blue. And I like dogs a lot, especially the tiny ones. My first word was --" 

"Chanyeol, you don't have to do this," Baekhyun feels guilty for the things he'd said, for the way he'd accused Chanyeol of toying with him. He just wants to sleep, wants to forget the way Chanyeol had looked when he was angry, wants things to be normal. Well, as normal as they could be. 

"-- spoon. I broke my nose when I was eight because --" 

"We don't know each other, and that's okay," his voice is soft, laced with regret. "I thought that telling you about myself would help me adjust to being here. You don't need to do this, really. You don't need to trust me yet. I was just being an asshole." 

" -- I fell out of a tree. My mom died when I was five." 

Baekhyun stills, too scared to make a sound or movement. He'd poked and prodded and now Chanyeol was divulging things that he was obviously uncomfortable with, was pushing himself because he was foolish at some party. 

"I'm sorry, Chanyeol."

It's all he can say, and he watches as Chanyeol's arm tenses up, obviously uncomfortable. 

"I mean, I have a stepmom. She's nice. But she's not my  _mom_ ," Chanyeol shrugs and Baekhyun feels it through the bed. "My favorite country to visit is Greece. I'm pretty good at archery. The longest I've ever gone without sleeping is almost 40 hours -- I know, impressive." 

Baekhyun wonders how he can be so nonchalant about that, but he doesn't question it, not when Chanyeol finally goes quiet and scoots toward him. The advances aren't sexual, they don't have something burning underneath the surface -- when he places a hand on Baekhyun's hip it's gentle and caring. Baekhyun leans into it, letting himself nestle into Chanyeol's broad chest, eyes closing against the heartbeat. 

It's quiet again, serene, and Baekhyun feels Chanyeol's fingers thrum a soft beat on his back. It's easily recognizable as the song that played during their dance -- _Chanyeol's_  song -- and Baekhyun thinks the music might translate to something like  _I trust you_.

They've never cuddled before, not unless something intimate happened immediately before. This is uncharted territory -- sharing secrets and body heat with no sex involved. It's not much, but Baekhyun lets himself hope a little, lets himself fall asleep with Chanyeol's warmth around him. 

\--

The air in the palace is stale -- no windows are open. It confuses Baekhyun, since he'd woken up alone to silence instead of birds chirping and Chanyeol padding around in the bathroom. Something is off, but he can't place it -- that is, until he makes his way down to breakfast. 

The man is older, near retirement age, and wearing more gold on his fingers than Baekhyun thinks he's ever seen in his life -- and that's a lot. Even Chanyeol looks nervous as he sips his soup, eye twitching slightly despite his smile.

There's a moment of confusion before Baekhyun connects that that's the  _king_  sitting at their table, that Chanyeol had been called early to host the man, that Baekhyun is in pajamas. 

Amusement flickers in Chanyeol's eyes for a split second and then it's replaced with panic. It's too late now, the shorter thinks, hands shaking out of nervousness. Baekhyun finishes his entrance to the room, beelining for the chair across from Chanyeol -- far from the king, since he's seated at the head of the table, as he rightfully should be. 

"Nice to meet you, your majesty," Baekhyun says immediately, entire upper body going parallel to the ground in a bow. He's shaking and he knows it; he hopes the king is a kind man, that he won't point out the sweat beading on his forehead or forming on his back. 

"Byun Baekhyun, pleased to meet your acquaintence," he replies, voice gravelly with age and cigars. "Your husband and I were just discussing the formal nuptials for our newest couple. We were thinking two months time, yes?" 

Chanyeol nods vehemently to the king, as if there's no choice, even if he wanted a different date. Baekhyun knows that he has no part in this decision -- neither does Chanyeol, really -- and he nods, making a show to prove that he considered and accepted the idea graciously. 

"I was in contact with some of the royal photographers, and they think that this morning would be perfect weather for some engagement photos. You're married, but to the people of our country, nothing is official without the televised wedding -- at this point, they still consider him your fiance. They're all anxious to see your groom's face, to see the two of you together. I'm sure you're excited for the good publicity, after all." 

Baekhyun notices something lingering in the last sentence, the way the king had casually insulted Chanyeol, as if he had a bad reputation. Baekhyun knows this isn't true -- at least, not on Chanyeol's wikipedia page -- but he can't say anything, not to the king, not when he's sitting in pajamas like some sort of village idiot. 

"This morning is a great plan, I'm sure," Chanyeol's voice is forced. "Baekhyun and I would be grateful to have the photographers come." 

Baekhyun nibbles some of the food on his plate and downs three cups of tea in an anxiety-ridden bout of thirst before the king  _finally_  leaves. There's a lot of words left unspoken that morning, questions lingering in the air, but they both ignore it and figure out what outfits to wear for their photos.

Chanyeol has a white sweater on, gold watch glittering next to the simplicity of his top. Baekhyun's wearing a bright blue sweater to go with the cozy theme -- the color is  _not_  because it's Chanyeol's favorite, he convinces himself -- and he actually does his hair so that it falls over his eyes the way it should, the way that Chanyeol liked that night at the club. 

Chanyeol produces rings that Baekhyun didn't even know _existed_ , but Chanyeol had bought them in Seoul, apparently, days before he'd met Baekhyun that night and the following morning. He'd never given the ring to Baekhyun since it felt wrong after their friend discusion, but with the photos, it was a done deal, he supposed. 

Baekhyun wonders why the weight on his left ring finger leaves such a weight on his heart, as if the significance of his and Chanyeol's relationship is finally settling in. 

It's awkward to hold hands when there's a camera following their every movement, and it's even worse when Baekhyun realizes how much he likes the warmth of Chanyeol's palm against his. Even if it's forced, it's nice, and he hides the satisfaction in his smile every time Chanyeol leans closer unconsciously. Sometimes they have to pose and it's awful and they laugh immediately afterward, bending over in giggles and pushing each other like teenagers. 

It feels realer than a lot of things, Baekhyun realizes, and he pulls Chanyeol down for a chaste kiss mid-photoshoot, earning a surprised gasp from both his husband and the photographer. Then he turns away and laughs again, if only to get the nerves out of his system again. 

Chanyeol's hand finds it way around his waist again, like it had so many times before, but this time Baekhyun can feel the ring against the curve of his abdomen, can hear Chanyeol's giggly breaths in his ear. 

"We're going to look ugly," Chanyeol says with a smile, as if it's a good thing. "We keep laughing and messing up all of the poses." 

"I think we'll look fine," Baekhyun teases back, sticking out his tongue.

This time Chanyeol pulls him in for a kiss -- Baekhyun feels the hand on his waist steady him against the pillar, and there's a whoosh of photos being captured, but the only thing that Baekhyun truly notices is the way Chanyeol's tongue licks across his lips. He shouldn't be  _allowed_  to do that, much less with a camera near them, and Baekhyun pushes his husband away before he makes a noise he can't take back. 

"Hey, Baekhyun," Chanyeol whispers later, when the photographer is ten feet away and not listening. "Do you want to go out tonight? Let's go to a bar or something. Friends hang out." 

"I haven't left this palace since I came here. Yes, please." 

\-- 

It doesn't take too much effort to sneak out of the palace -- at least, not when you're Chanyeol -- and the two make their way out of the grounds on foot. Their hands aren't connected, although it had almost happened out of habit from that morning's photoshoot, but there's something about being by Chanyeol's side in the fresh air that has Baekhyun reeling. 

"Okay, so the palace is far away from actual  _towns_ ," Chanyeol explains as they walk down a desolate road, lined with bushes and flowers and fruit trees. It's pretty in the fading sunlight, but Chanyeol is right -- there's nothing here. "But, I know how to call an uber. So, my darling, here we go. Off to bigger adventures." 

Baekhyun laughs out loud at the dramatic choice of words (ignoring the flip his stomach does at the word darling) and focuses on staying on the path. Everything is so different from Seoul, from the way the roads are paved to the fact that there's no cars on them, to the sound of night settling in. 

As if his husband could read his mind, there's a sudden hand on the small of his back, urging him forward on the road. 

"Tonight, I'll take you to a bigger city," Chanyeol's voice is sincere. "It's no Seoul, but I'll try my best. I'm not allowed to travel back out of the country for a few more months, and I don't want you to have to stay trapped in the palace the whole time. Honestly, it's kind of prison-like, sometimes." 

"Thank you," Baekhyun feels tears pricking his eyes, but he feels dumb crying over something as small as this. He blinks rapidly, willing the drops away, and actually jumps when he sees headlights in the distance. It'd been so long since he'd been this close to a car -- it was the small things he missed, really. 

They climb in and Chanyeol gives the driver an address and a smile. The first ten minutes of the ride are nothing special -- road, trees, ocean, Chanyeol's hand drumming along to the beat of the radio -- but then it starts to change.

There's lights and more cars and  _people_. It's a big city, filled to the brim with all types of lights and businesses, and Baekhyun feels a rush of nostalgia fill him when he sees a building tall enough to scrape the sky. It's almost like home -- Seoul with an ocean view, Seoul with Chanyeol tucked against his side. 

They get out on a bustling corner and Baekhyun can't wipe the smile from his face, can't get the excitement to stop flowing through his veins at the sight of neon lights and crowded cafes. There's something sacred about this, about the way people file in and squeeze to fit, about the way the moon shines alongside city lights and glittering signs. 

"Chanyeol, it's amazing, thank you," Baekhyun is crying a little but he doesn't feel ashamed, not this time, because Chanyeol's smile is so big that it looks like his cheeks might burst from joy. "It feels like a piece of home." 

Their hands wind together then and Baekhyun lets Chanyeol take them to a crowded bar down the street. It's luxurious but somehow still grimy, just like everything Baekhyun had imagined, had missed. 

"I'm going to get us drinks," Chanyeol says excitedly, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet. "We can't drink more than a few rounds since we have to be coherent when we get back, but I want you to have a good time, okay? I'll be back." 

Chanyeol punctuates his words with a small kiss to Baekhyun's forehead, and then he's gone, into the crowd of people huddled around the bar. Baekhyun is still close to the door of the bar and so he moves to rest next to it, observing the people around him, thinking about Yuri and Heechul and Taeyeon, thinking about the night he'd been infatuated with Chanyeol's face and attitude.

The night he'd met his husband, he thinks belatedly, realizing for the first time that he'd  _chosen_  Chanyeol that night, that something inside of him had wanted him. Had always wanted him. 

There's a hand on his shoulder and he turns, expecting to see big ears and shining eyes greeting him. Instead, there's a well-built man with eyes that strike something inside Baekhyun -- panic. The way the stranger is looking at him is something predatory, scary, and Baekhyun feels fear bubble in his stomach. 

He starts to open his mouth, to move away from the grip on his shoulder, but he's ripped back toward the man with cruel intensity. Then he's being dragged through the door, something harshly shoved in his mouth to keep from any sound coming out. Shit, he realizes, kicking out at the attacker, he's being  _kidnapped_. 

"Chanyeol!" it comes out muffled, sounding more like a garble of letters, but he hopes that someone's heard and found the man who just kissed his head goodbye. No one does, though, because the entrance to the bar is already shut behind them and Baekhyun's sitting in a car now.

His head is ringing, spinning, and he realizes that he's dizzy, that there must've been something else on the cloth in his mouth, that Chanyeol doesn't know what's happened.

He's going to die and no one will ever know, he's convinced, but he tries to shout Chanyeol's name one last time before black engulfs him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D R A M A !
> 
> feedback is always appreciated!!!! love you guys, goodnight! 
> 
>  
> 
> (also: heres my curiouscat, if anyone wants it! https://curiouscat.me/baekyall)


	5. five

It's cold. Something in the air smells like dust and cigarettes, and Baekhyun's throat is dry. 

For a second, everything is a blur. Baekhyun can't remember why his head hurts or his hands are numb, can't piece together why his and Chanyeol's bedroom smells like this. 

And then his mind clears up, the fog evaporates, and the world seems to spin back into reality all at once: he was taken, had screamed Chanyeol's name as darkness covered him. 

Fuck, he thinks, where is this place?

His vision twists along with his head, dark spots of panic forming in the corner of his vision. He's really shaky, he realizes, and he wonders what he'd breathed in earlier. 

Looking around, he's only more confused to be greeted by the sight of concrete walls and flooring, of barren, grey basement landscape. The simplicity of it, especially the rough edges of the concrete and the silent chill seeping into Baekhyun's body, makes him feel suddenly as if he's in Seoul. 

His heart leaps. No, no, this is a city basement, he's sure, but there's no way he's back in Korea. By the time it would've taken someone to get him smuggled back into his own country, Chanyeol would've found him, would've made his kidnappers regret it. 

He takes a hard swallow at the thought of Chanyeol, of his kind eyes that are probably dark with fear and anxiety, of the mouth that kisses his so sweetly, of the way their bedroom window allows the wind to sweep across his cheekbones. 

From the first day he'd met Chanyeol, a breeze had always surrounded them, the rays of the sun melting smiles together, the moonlight highlighting hurried kisses. The openness of the palace had kept them safe, had allowed Baekhyun to breathe. 

But there's no air in here, Baekhyun thinks, despondent, and he suddenly realizes that there's no windows either; he has no way of telling time. 

A fearful thought strikes panic into his chest then, and even when he tries to push it away by closing his eyes tightly, some part of his brain worries on, whispering:  _it's probably been days; Chanyeol isn't coming._  

He knows it's not true, is positive it can't be. He doesn't know who took him, or where he is, but he does know that Chanyeol is one of the most powerful men in his country, that Chanyeol would find him quickly. There's a lot that Baekhyun wonders about his husband, but of his kindness and loyalty he has no doubts. 

He will come, he tells himself, he will. 

There are muffled sounds, strained and deep, and Baekhyun recognizes them as voices. He can't tell how long he's been out, but hearing something other than his thoughts shakes him as if it'd been months since he'd last seen a person. Especially when he realizes that he doesn't recognize any of the voices drifting down, that they're getting closer and louder. 

He hears footsteps and closes his eyes, too scared to show his kidnappers that he's awake. 

There's no telling what would happen if they knew he was conscious, and so he lets his mouth fall open as if he was deep in sleep, forces himself to look relaxed, drugged. 

The first person to talk is quiet, almost as if he's whispering, and Baekhyun tries to place the sound, attempts to find any uniqueness in the voice. He can't make out any words, just quiet mumbles to another person as they clomp down the stairs. 

He needs to distinguish people apart, needs to remember the way the voices ring through his ears if he's going to tell them apart when he's safe again. 

 _If_ he's safe again, his brain reminds.

His mouth salivates at the thought, and Baekhyun fears that he's going to throw up, but he can't let himself -- not right now. He needs to breathe the musty air in deep and fight the urge to show any weaknesses in front of these people, needs to look asleep and harmless, needs to find a way out.

"Is he awake?" 

The first voice asks. Baekhyun notices an accent, but it's not a dialect. The person is foreign, maybe, but Baekhyun can't place it -- it's all too confusing to piece together while trying to keep a blank, innocent face. 

"No," the second one is a woman, which shocks Baekhyun more than it should have. "He's still out." 

He doesn't know if it's the drugs or not, but his thoughts gets sidetracked easily, and suddenly he's pondering whether Joohyun knows of the kidnapping, whether Minseok's little sister is giggling, whether his mother is on a plane to find him right now, crying. 

But then she speaks again and he forces his brain to shut off, reminds himself that he has more important things to worry about. 

"Did you cover our tracks well enough? The prince won't stand for this. I don't want to be caught," her voice quivers, but there's a bite infused in her next words. "Especially not because of your laziness." 

Something clanks around, as if someone is ruffling through a bag a few feet away from him. Baekhyun tries not to swallow, tries to keep his breathing as steady as he can. Fear takes hold of him once again and his stomach muscles clench at the thought of what they could be searching for in that bag. 

"Of course I did. When we get the ransom money, we'll transfer the boy over. He won't be our problem anymore, and we get a cut of the profits." 

"What if they trace the money?" her question is valid, and Baekhyun's mind is racing over how much they could possibly ask for, how much Chanyeol would give. 

"All cash. And then the boy is on to the higher ups, and we leave," the woman hums in agreement. "We're in it for the money, they're in it to punish him. I don't care enough about that fake prince, and neither should you." 

Baekhyun is reeling from the information, the use of words. _Higher ups, fake prince, punish him._  It all sounds so septic, so cruel, and Baekhyun can feel sweat dripping down his lower back. Their voices stop and he hears footsteps track back up the stairs, all the held breathe slowly draining from Baekhyun, heart pounding. 

After an entire minute of silence, Baekhyun chances it and opens his eyes, finding himself alone in the basement once again, silent sobs racking through him almost immediately. 

\--

"Prince Chanyeol, the investigators have located the car that was used to take him. They can only work so quickly, please -- " 

"Please what?" Chanyeol's voice is rough and distraught, full of anger. "Someone took him and I was twenty feet away! I was gone for  _five minutes_. I'm not going to calm down." 

Joohyun's breathing comes out ragged, but she doesn't respond, all too aware of the fear that's creeping in her cousin's voice. No matter how angry he looks, she knows that it's only because he's blaming himself, that he's worried sick.

It's been six hours, and Chanyeol has done nothing but pace and demand updates. He'd asked to use a car of his own, to try and find Baekhyun along with the investigators, but officials deemed it too dangerous to let the prince chase after anyone. 

"No one will hurt him," Joohyun promises, though even she can tell her voice only sounds hopeful, not assured. 

Chanyeol shakes his head at that frantically, long fingers drumming on his arm. He looks like he's about to crumble, like a wave touching the sky before it crashes down, like the tears she can she welling in his eyes. She watches patiently, waiting for the emotional breakdown that he's been avoiding for hours, sighing softly when she hears him take his first labored breath.

"But what if they  _do_?" his voice is small, and suddenly he's sitting on the floor of the palace, shoulders hunched and quivering in dissolved tears. He looks small, scared, panicked.

Joohyun realizes that she has no answer; there is no answer she could ever give. If he's hurt, Chanyeol will never forgive himself, no matter what comforting words she offers him, no matter the amount of smiles Baekhyun still shows him. 

"Do you know who could've done it, Chanyeol?" she asks quietly as she kneels down to him. The prince coughs into his sobs, almost laughing, as if her question itself is a joke. 

"Who do  _you_ think could've done it?" his voice is cruel, almost accusing. "Who hates me enough to hurt my husband? I don't know -- why don't you give it a guess, Joohyun." 

"Chanyeol, you can't actually think Sehun would hurt Baekhyun," Joohyun notices the way her cousin flinches at his husband's name. "He doesn't like you, but he's not a  _kidnapper_." 

Joohyun turns her head sharply at her own words, realizing something, and speaks again before Chanyeol gets the chance to explain his conspiracy theory, to make himself more angry and anxious. 

"Speaking of Sehun, you need to tell Baekhyun. He doesn't know anything between you two, he doesn't understand why you both act like that," Joohyun's voice calms down a little, hand reaching out to pat her cousin's shoulder softly. "You look at Baekhyun like he hung the stars, but you won't tell him anything about you. It confuses him, Chanyeol." 

This sparks light back into his eyes, makes his shoulders perk up. Despite the harsh advice, the taller seemed to only pick up on the positive, singling out the words that linked Baekhyun and affection.

"Does he know I look at him like that?" 

Joohyun wants to smile at him, but she can't let herself, not right now. She needs to be firm, needs Baekhyun to be safe, needs Chanyeol to think logically. 

"He doesn't know a lot of things," she responds. "Just -- when he's back, when he's safe --  _talk_  to him. Don't leave him wondering why this happened. Don't leave it up to Sehun to explain your paranoia." 

Chanyeol is going to protest, but then he hears the slapping of soles on marble floor, a sure sign of someone running toward them. He hops to his feet, adrenaline already pounding, and meets the man in the archway. There's something in his eyes that leaves nothing to be said -- Baekhyun's location has been found. 

"I'm going." 

It's not a suggestion but a command, and the man complies, shifting aside to let the prince run through the halls toward the car waiting outside.

It's all happening in a flash, and Chanyeol wants to scream in joy, wants to throw up at the thought of anything happening to his husband before he gets there, wants to see Baekhyun's pretty eyes looking back at him. 

With shaky hands and a queasy stomach, Chanyeol watches the sunrise from the passenger seat of the investigator's car.

It's morning already, he realizes, but he had no time to get tired, not when all he could think about was the way Baekhyun had smiled at him before he left. The way he'd leaned into the kiss on the forehead, the way his ears and cheeks twinged pink, the way Chanyeol's stomach dropped when he came back to nothing. The way he emptied his stomach on the sidewalk when he realized what had happened, the way he'd called for help, choking and yelling and running. 

The way it was all his fault, really -- he'd snuck them both out, he'd left first, he hadn't come back quickly enough. 

Thinking about it makes him nauseous, so Chanyeol rests his head on the cold window of the car, letting himself daydream of Baekhyun's soft hands wrapped in his, of the sound of his husband's laughter, of soft black hair on the pillow next to his. 

\-- 

Baekhyun wakes up from a fitful nap to the sound of slamming doors, to harsh shouting and thumping footsteps. He jumps in his corner of the basement and scrambles to hide somewhere, certain that the higher ups are here, that he's done for.

He's not positive why anyone would kidnap him, but he knows someone hates Chanyeol and is using him to get money. That much is clear -- but he's not sure what will happen to him once the money's recieved, and that makes him force his numb legs to crawl further away from the door in self preservation. 

His mind is screaming  _stop moving it hurts i'm tired_  but his heart is racing to a different tune. Soon he's huddled far away from the door, in the farthest corner of the basement, hidden by an empty cardboard box. He's shaky, so shaky, and he's positive he will actually throw up when he hears someone coming downstairs this time. 

The noises get louder and louder, then quiet, almost peaceful. Baekhyun wonders if he should go upstairs, but before he can really contemplate his choices, the door is swinging open to the basement. 

Don't breathe, he reminds himself, crouching impossibly lower. 

"Baekhyun?" 

All the air in his lungs leaves as if he's been punched.

The familiar voice,  the desperation ringing through it, the sound of footsteps.

He tries to stand up with shaky legs, still a little numb, and catches a glimpse of his husband bounding down the stairs, long limbs flailing and face relieved. He's not sure if he can stay standing for more than a few seconds, but it's okay, because in the next second Chanyeol is cradling him against his chest. 

It's Chanyeol. It's  _his_  Chanyeol.

It feels like home -- despite hours of crying and sweating, he still smells like the ocean, like his cologne, like sleeping covered in sunshine. The shorter melts into his arms even further, allowing Chanyeol to take over the job of holding him up, focused only on breathing. Baekhyun registers that he's sobbing openly onto Chanyeol's shoulder, that he's gone completely limp in his husband's arms, that Chanyeol is  _here_. 

"Are you okay?" Chanyeol's voice is panicked and he chokes on the last word, gentle fingers gliding over Baekhyun's cheekbones, shoulders, waist. 

"I'm okay," Baekhyun gargles back through tears and snot.

He should care that he's almost hysterical, that he just ruined Chanyeol's expensive shirt, that his legs are completely numb -- but when Chanyeol's hands are anchoring him and lips are pressed against every inch of his face, he doesn't mind. 

"No one hurt you?" the sheer fear present in Chanyeol's voice makes warmth drop in Baekhyun's stomach, knowing that he was worried, knowing that Chanyeol wanted to protect him. 

He shakes his head feebly against the taller's shoulder, feeling sleepy again from the sudden rush of emotions and adrenaline, from the way Chanyeol's presence relaxes him.

Chanyeol is far from sleeping, though, because just as Baekhyun begins to doze off in his arms, Chanyeol squeezes him even closer, burying his face deep in the crook of Baekhyun's neck, breathing labored. 

"Wha --" 

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have left you, I'm so  _sorry,_ " Chanyeol gasps against his neck. He nuzzles his nose against Baekhyun's clavicle, leaving a small peck of affection there, a tiny apology. "Baekhyun, I'm sorry." 

Baekhyun feels like crying all over again because  _no,_  it's not anyone's fault, he knows this; he's told himself this countless times since last night. 

"Stop," Baekhyun whispers, placing a kiss on the top of Chanyeol's head. It's so reminiscent of the night before that he feels himself tense up, but then Chanyeol looks up at him and his fears evaporate. Nothing is scary when it's Chanyeol, after all. "It's not your fault. You didn't know. I didn't know. I'm safe." 

"You're safe," he repeats to himself, comitting it to memory, convincing himself of the reality.

Baekhyun watches tears cloud his eyes and tries to smile them away. His small attempt and subsequent failure makes Chanyeol's eyes darken in sadness, in shame. 

The taller looks away, blinking rapidly, and he shakes his head before he's wrapping an arm under Baekhyun's knees. They're up the stairs in a few steps, thankfully. The sun is too bright, so Baekhyun closes his eyes against it, places a chaste kiss on the side of his husband's neck, whispers a tiny _I_ _'m safe,_ and lets the fatigue take over, surrounded by warmth. 

\-- 

The next time he wakes up, it's in the now-familiar bedroom he shares with Chanyeol. He's held completely by Chanyeol in bed, encircled with rough hands and a delicate face. The sun is setting, he thinks, from the way the pink hue turns Chanyeol's hair a red color, from the way his lips look like soft flower petals, freshly fallen from a blooming tree. It feels like a dream, to see this face after the last day's events, to feel safe again. 

He traces a pale finger down the slope of Chanyeol's nose, and for a second all that he can think about is how cold the basement had been, how he'd panicked and cried alone, how he'd imagined the faces of the people he loved the entire time -- how Chanyeol showed up quite a few times. 

Maybe that means something, he ponders silently.

Drawing forward, Baekhyun kisses the tip of Chanyeol's nose as softly as he can. He's not sure why -- maybe just because he can.

"I'm awake," Chanyeol whispers, though his eyes don't open. Baekhyun startles but doesn't move back, liking the proximity of his husband and the comfort his deep voice instills. 

"Why weren't you sleeping?" Baekhyun questions softly, hand moving to rest on Chanyeol's shoulder.

With Chanyeol's wound around his waist, they're completely locked together, intimate and new for both. The tranquil warmth between them sparks something that feels like touching the sun, like eating the nectar of the gods, if only for the briefest of moments. 

"I couldn't," he simply says. "I kept thinking about your face when I kissed you good bye last night. How it could've been the last time I saw you. And then I would panic, and I'd have to listen to your breathing and match it to calm down. It was a tough cycle to break, so I didn't sleep." 

Baekhyun feels Chanyeol's affection and sorrow all at once, a torrential downpour of emotions, and he shakes his head at the turmoil. Even though Chanyeol's eyes are closed, he can feel it, he knows. 

"It's not the last. Look," Baekhyun launches forward to kiss Chanyeol's forehead. The taller's eyes crack open just in time to see his husband smiling shyly, proudly as he pulls away. "I did it again. And I'm safe." 

"Baekhyun," his voice is serious. "I have to tell you something. I want you to know why Sehun and I don't get along, why he might be involved with what happened." 

Baekhyun stares incredulously. 

" _Sehun_?  _Involved_?" 

"I know you don't believe me. I don't think he orchestrated it, but I wouldn't be surprised if  _somewhere_  along the way, he was involved, that's all." 

It sounds so improbable, Baekhyun thinks, but then he sees the sincerity in Chanyeol's eyes, feels Chanyeol's hands moving from his waist to cup his face gently. Chanyeol is finally telling him something, is sharing something that matters to him, and Baekhyun sets his eyes to watch his husband intently, prepared to hear whatever made Joohyun go hush at the ball. 

"My uncle was not a good man," Chanyeol begins slowly, cautiously. "I always knew that, deep down. But he was my mom's brother, so I trusted him. Once she was gone, he was the only piece left of her, you know. My dad didn't like to bring up her death because it upset him -- he didn't think it was healthy to talk about. My uncle was the only one who acted like she once existed. And for a six year old, that's enough to earn trust and love." 

Baekhyun nods for him to go on, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly in the fading pink light. 

"Well, when I was ten, it was found out that he wanted to overthrow the king and instill a new government. He'd been recruiting members to revolt against the royal family. Treasonous. You can guess how it ended for him."

Chanyeol shrugs to show that it doesn't affect him, but Baekhyun can see the warmth in his eyes draining, replaced with a feigned strength.

"It really shouldn't have affected  _me._ But Sehun convinced his father that I was involved, that I was being raised by my uncle instead of my dad -- that I was going to carry on my uncle's plan," he pauses to take a deep breath. "So, after Sehun's dad convinced the king, I got the punishment of staying in  _only_  in my palace until I was married. The idea was that, after I was married, they could make my spouse spy on me, just in case." 

Baekhyun sucks in a deep breath, thoroughly confused. He'd  _never_  been asked to spy on Chanyeol, especially not for treasonous actions. 

"By the time I was seventeen, they realized it wasn't true. I was a decent kid, but they'd fucked up with my punishment, and so they sent me to France to go to school -- to get rid of me, I guess." 

"Why would they send you so far? I'm so sorry, Chanyeol," Baekhyun consoles, inching closer to his husband. Chanyeol accepts it gratefully, letting Baekhyun rest his head against his chest, enveloping the smaller in his arms completely. 

"Both of my siblings are over ten years older and married commoners -- they left the palace; they didn't want a deliquent, spoiled kid living with them. So, I went to Paris. It was okay, actually -- it was nice to meet people for once, even if I had to learn another language to do it." 

Baekhyun likes the way Chanyeol's chest rumbles when he talks, especially when he's sharing stories, when they're so close like this. 

"After that incident, I acted like an asshole to Sehun whenever I saw him. Even today, he holds something against me, and I can't stand it. We don't get along, and he's always looking for ways to hurt me. I don't know if he's really involved -- I hope he's not -- but I wanted you to know." 

"Hey, Chanyeol," Baekhyun bites his lip. "No offense, but your family is full of assholes." 

"I know, trust me." 

"At least you got to go to Paris, though? There's one upside," Baekhyun teases, leaning his head against his husband even more. His words are sarcastic, but his actions are sweet; so sweet that Chanyeol feels the tips of his ears heating up, hands shaking against the curve of Baekhyun's hip.

"Paris is just no. 2, though. You're the best thing to ever happen to me." 

Baekhyun scoots back abruptly, staring him straight in the face. "What?" 

"You're the best thing to ever happen to me," he repeats, this time slower, punctuated with a dimpled smile. "Before you came, being in the palace was like being in prison. Now I watch you look at flowers and the ocean and I leave the window open and -- you make living here feel like I'm actually  _living._ " 

Baekhyun smiles so bright that he can physically feel his face scrunching into a thousand tiny wrinkles, eyes twinkling with something that he doesn't want to name quite yet. Chanyeol mirrors it back, nose scrunched, and when they meet in the middle for a kiss, it feels as natural as the moon pulling on the tide, as their smiles melded together in laughter and relief. 

\--  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOH boy. chapter's done!
> 
> ok: SORRY! i'm graduating high school soon... i had competitions.. i had prom... i had a concert.. i have 103 projects due in the next three weeks. i'm dying. sorry this took so long.. goodnight <3
> 
> feedback is always appreciated!! 


	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT. LOVE YOU ALL!

The following days are a blur of rushed introductions, of sterile white rooms and friendly faces with shining badges. Baekhyun knows that it's all for his safety (how could he forget, with Chanyeol's hands and smile and heartbeat constantly in the corner of his vision, his mind) but it feels like too much sometimes. After a few hours of questioning, everything gets fuzzy around the edges, tinting his memories with doubt, making him question what he knows he heard and felt. 

"Back to the man at the bar," the detective's voice is tired, as tired as Baekhyun feels, but there's a sort of hope in it that makes him shut his eyes to envision the scene again. 

_Chanyeol's dimple, wooden tables, crowds of people, and then a hand. The hand grabs him, rough and painful, drags him away. The man is bigger than him, but not especially large, not especially toned. He's average, and now there's something in Baekhyun's mouth. Drowsiness pulls him under._

"Was there anything special about him?" she questions for what feels like the hundredth time. "A smell? Ring on his hand? Anything?" 

Baekhyun had given them great information on the people inside the house, but the police had found them at the scene, already had them in custody. There was nothing new he could provide about his kidnapper -- couldn't confirm or deny whether the man at the bar and the house were one in the same. 

"I'm sorry, I can't," Baekhyun feels anger twinge in the pit of his stomach. "I'm not very useful." 

"Mr. Byun, you're doing fine, it's not your fault. We'll review the tapes from the streets and the bar again before you leave, just in case?" 

The hair on his arms stand up at the thought of that, but he nods anyway, smile feeling awfully plastic on his lips. They'd shown him before in an attempt to make him remember something hidden, but each time it's just made Baekhyun feel nauseous and sweaty. Before he can work up the courage to disallow the viewing, there he is, grainy CCTV quality Baekhyun popping up on the screen. 

He watches fitfully as the image of him standing happily in the very corner of the bar's footage cuts to his flailing body outside, shows him getting thrown into a vehicle. It only takes seconds to watch, but it's enough. His throat is closing ever so steadily, a choked gasp of tears pushed down into his stomach, so stifled that Baekhyun knows he will probably vomit once he's out of the room. 

"Anything new?" the detective's calming tone helps his nerves, but it's only momentary. When she doesn't recieve any response from Baekhyun, she nods instead, softly, almost resigned. "Have a good night, Mr. Byun. Thank you." 

Then Baekhyun is forcing his way out of the small room, headed frantically toward the bathroom, fear and panic and stress manifesting in violent nausea and sobbing. He only makes it to the sink before he's wretching, shoulders trembling.

He misses Seoul more than ever right now, misses the way he'd felt laying in his bed watching the night sky. It was so simple, back before he'd moved to a new country, before he'd met someone who infuriates him and comforts him so easily, before he'd become entangled in some sort of plot against his husband.

Baekhyun feels almost hysterical from his few hours of sleep over the last week, so he's not really surprised when he finds himself sitting on the police station's bathroom floor, taking deep breaths and struggling to let them out. He's up and stumbling toward the door soon enough, hazy brain reminding him that Chanyeol is waiting to go back with him, that he needs to pull himself together so no one looks at him with those concerned eyes. 

His husband beats him to it, though, because before he can even leave the restroom, the door is swinging open and there he stands, tired eyes meeting the smaller's. 

"What's wrong?" Chanyeol breathes out as he takes in the sight of Baekhyun.

A large hand is tucking hair behind the shorter's ear gently, moving to rest on the back of Baekhyun's neck comfortably. The other is rubbing comforting circles onto Baekhyun's side. It's all so much, so quickly, and Baekhyun is reeling at the feeling of Chanyeol all over him, of his husband's warmth and cologne and worried looks. 

"It's just --" Baekhyun shakes his head, a choking breath tumbling out. "They made me watch the videos again, and you  _know_  how bad they are. I just -- I look so limp and weak." 

"They drugged you. The doctors tested it -- it's not your fault that you couldn't fight back. They're awful to watch, but none of what you saw was your fault." 

Chanyeol loosens his hold, moving to be eye to eye with the smaller, to give him a weak smile. 

"It's not even that, it's not -- I just looked --" Baekhyun rests his forehead on Chanyeol's shoulder, bracing himself. "I looked  _dead_." 

The taller pulls him closer, shaking his head so hard that Baekhyun can feel his Adam's apple against the top of his head, can detect the moment when Chanyeol's hands start trembling. It's like a wave of emotions crash over him when Chanyeol kisses the crown of his head softly, lips brushing against his scalp for a moment in a way that sends a shiver down his spine. 

"You're safe," Chanyeol reassures, giving Baekhyun's shoulder a squeeze before pulling away. Baekhyun notices the way his eyes are flitting between them like he's nervous and scared, like the thought had crossed his mind, too. "You're safe." 

"No one should have to see themselves like _that_ , Chanyeol, no one should have to watch themselves get kidnapped over and over and over --" Baekhyun's voice raises an octave in agitation, but Chanyeol's left hand extends to wrap around his right softly, silently.

Baekhyun sighs and stares at their fingers moving to adjust to the other's, wondering when this became regular, contemplating when Chanyeol's presence began to be his comfort. 

"I know, I shouldn't get so worked up. It's standard procedure," Chanyeol squeezes his hand in response. "It's just all so fresh, and they're acting like I should  _know_  more. I just wish I did. I wish I knew who orchestrated it, and why, and it could be over." 

"It will be over soon, Baek. I'm sure of it." 

Baekhyun ignores the quiver in Chanyeol's voice and the thumping in his chest, focusing solely on the warmth between their palms as they leave the bathroom. 

\--

The palace is as breezy and open as ever, sheer curtains ruffling with each step the pair make through the halls. It's getting late -- at least Baekhyun thinks so, he's not so sure anymore, but the moon is out -- and all he can think about is collapsing into their soft bed, matching Chanyeol's breathing, drifting off into sleep. 

Chanyeol has the same plan, if his droopy eyes and constant yawns are any indication. Baekhyun feels his stomach warm at the sight, but before he can contemplate his childish reaction there's a loud shout, manly and aggressive. 

This seems to put the taller into protective mode, immediately pushing Baekhyun behind him, eyes narrowed and completely awake. Baekhyun winds his hands tight in the back of Chanyeol's shirt, pushing him forward slowly, nervous at the noises eminating from the next hallway. 

"I'm going to look," Chanyeol's voice is low and quiet. "If I scream, run the other way and find guards." 

Baekhyun hates how serious he sounds, how  _prepared_ he sounds. It hits him that Chanyeol had probably pictured this scenario hundreds of times since the day he'd gone missing, that Chanyeol had thought of all the ways they might be in danger, that Chanyeol had put him first in all of them.

He wants to pull Chanyeol back toward him and pepper kisses all over his face, just in case, but the taller is turning the corner before Baekhyun realizes he'd moved.

Silence ensues and Baekhyun waits, barely breathing, before he hears his husband's unmistakable voice ringing through a cacophony of screaming, "You came? You didn't have to. It's late." 

Deciding that he sounds rather calm and composed, Baekhyun ventures to the corner, peeking around in order to get a glimpse of their guest. He's not quite sure what he expected to be lurking in the next room, but it definitely wasn't more than half of Chanyeol's cousins, sprawled out on couches across the room, loud voices vibrating off the walls. 

He sucks in a breath when he counts four heads surrounding his husband, exhaustion suddenly overcome with nervousness. He hadn't seen them all since the night of the ball, since the night Sehun scorched him with stares and touches, since the night Chanyeol swayed with him in the lilac light. A lot had happened since that chaotic day, and Baekhyun is now acutely aware that he looks awful and smells like vomit. 

"Where's Baekhyun?" 

Said man slowly matches the face to the voice, registering that Yixing is the prince asking after him. At his question, five heads turn to look toward the door, directly where Baekhyun is stationed. Chanyeol smiles a tiny smile, eyes fond in a way that Baekhyun doesn't think he's seen before, at least not directed at him. 

"Good evening, your highnesses," Baekhyun bows as far as his dizzy head will let him. Immediately, a chorus of groans is filling the room, four princes too embarrassed by the formalities the smaller is trying to give them. 

"You're technically already married to Chanyeol, at least on paper," Minseok points out, voice disappointed. "You're  _family!_ And we're here to see you after, you know, everything. There's no need to respect us when we're here to check on you." 

Jongin seperates from the group and ushers Baekhyun further inside the room, eyes kind. Baekhyun takes note of Kyungsoo when the latter nods to him in greeting, cheeks puffing in a small smile. He feels better standing in the group than in the doorway, though he's still hyperaware of how disheveled he must look to the rest of them. 

"How are you guys doing? Any injuries?" Minseok asks, looking the married pair up and down repeatedly, squinting. The other three seem to scrutinize them, too, though it feels like a joke when Baekhyun meets Yixing's eyes and sees the smile hiding in them. 

Baekhyun knows that he has a bruise on his neck from the way the man at the bar had grabbed him, but he stays quiet on the subject, letting Minseok's eyes wander over it and drift away once again, silent despite the older's obvious interest.

He's sure the other three have seen it, is positive Chanyeol has noticed it in the last week, but he looks away from the group to stare at an ornate painting hanging on the wall instead -- anything to get the interest away from the blue spot on his neck and the memories associated with it. 

"How have you been holding up with all of the doctor's visits and police interviews?" Kyungsoo's question seems more well thought out, and Baekhyun's grateful for the immediate distraction. "You both look tired." 

"It's been tough, especially for Baekhyun, but I'm sure after this week, it'll get easier to manage our time. Easier to finally get some real sleep, at least." 

Baekhyun smiles at Chanyeol's response and feels relieved when he reads the obvious undertones in it -- they're both tired, and they need to sleep, so it'd be easier to accomplish it without cousins yelling in their hallways. 

"It's just been a lot of repeating myself," Baekhyun shrugs, childish smile finding it's way out for the first time in awhile. He likes having people here, likes socializing with people who mean something to his husband, to his future life -- although, maybe not under  _these_  circumstances.  

"So cute!" Minseok's eyes crinkle when he laughs, and Baekhyun decides that maybe Minseok is his favorite of the cousins so far. "You stay positive, that's good! We've all had our fair share of threats and _attempted_  kidnappings, but I'm glad you're trying to not let it freak you out too much." 

Baekhyun wants to scream that of course it freaked him out, it was awful, and he feels sick when he thinks about it. He doesn't, though, because he knows that there's no way to share those feelings to a group of guys he doesn't really know without it getting awkward, without worrying Chanyeol and stressing himself out tenfold. 

"I'm sure the police will get down to the bottom of it, and everyone can relax soon." 

Jongin doesn't speak too much, but his voice is nice and comforting when he does, Baekhyun finds. The tallest thinks so, too, because soon he's clapping a large hand on Jongin's back, smile bright and thankful. It's in this moment of peace that Baekhyun picks up on the sound of more voices, this time slightly farther away and low.

His hand reaches out for Chanyeol's arm immediately, ears tuning to the sound even more, panic rising in his chest like flames across the dry forest floor. He feels like he's sinking because this time there's no friendly yelling, no investigation done by Chanyeol, no place to turn -- they're coming closer on their own. 

Chanyeol's hand scrambles for his and he brings them closer together as if on instict. His face is hard as stone, unfeeling, but Baekhyun can feel his heartbeat quicken against his, can tell that his husband is panicking, too. Lately, everything feels like a threat. 

By the time the pair have fumbled to be close together, the other princes are giggling. 

"It's just the other guys," Yixing explains through a dimpled laugh. "You both gravitated to each other, it's adorable." 

Chanyeol huffs because it's not  _funny_ , but the situation especially loses it's humor when Baekhyun detaches himself from the taller out of embarrassment. There's no laughter left by the time Jongdae and Sehun walk in, a little shocked to find the couple back already. 

Jongdae is immediately on Baekhyun, smiling and being himself. For a moment, the fear and tension has lifted, leaving only Jongdae's strangled cries of happiness as he hurries to give Chanyeol a hug, spreading a twinge of joy through the room once again. It's distinguished the next second; the room goes silent as Sehun steps up to greet Baekhyun, smile knowing and hands on his instantly. 

"How are you, Baekhyun?" 

Baekhyun shrugs to convey so-so, feeling a little uncomfortable with the amount of eyes watching this interaction. He's particularly sensitive to the tall man by his side, the one whose eyes are almost deadly, filled with something close to hate.

Truly, he wants to be mad that his husband acts this way to his cousin, but then he thinks about Chanyeol spending years alone, Chanyeol being sent to France as an afterthought, Chanyeol losing the only connection to his mother and being punished for it.  

"Oh? What's this?" Sehun's voice is softer than he's ever heard it, filled with genuine curiousity, and Baekhyun watches with wide eyes as the boy's slim fingers reach closer to him. 

Sehun's fingertips brush across the bruise on Baekhyun's neck, stopping momentarily to feel the smaller's pulse. His hands are rough, rougher than Chanyeol's and colder, too. Baekhyun lets out an involuntary sigh when Sehun adjusts his hand to rub a thumb over the bruise, frowning. It's too tender, Baekhyun thinks, for a cousin's spouse. 

Chanyeol's hand shoots out, stopping Sehun's with a firm grip on his wrist, anger evident by the way his hand is shaking. The boy only rebels further, pulling away in indignation, rubbing his wrist as if he's in serious pain. 

"What is  _wrong_  with you?" 

Baekhyun knows what's wrong with Chanyeol and he also knows that Sehun is just as aware, that Sehun lives to provoke Chanyeol, that the tenderness earlier was a facade in order to get this reaction. Chanyeol moves closer to Sehun, blocking Baekhyun partially, eyes pure fire and hands an angry sort of shaky.

The shorter snakes an arm around Chanyeol's waist to hold his forearm, willing him to calm down. Sehun's eyes widen at the action and he smirks, mumbling, "See? You're scaring him."

The tallest's body goes rigid against the smaller -- he's positive that the anger is boiling over now, that Sehun needs to  _be quiet_ , because, god, Chanyeol has barely slept and now _this._ It's going to lead to nothing good, Baekhyun is sure.  

"Its obviously a bruise, you don't have to touch it," Chanyeol spits out. Baekhyun tries to reach for Chanyeol's hand, but it's no use, not when Sehun eggs him on like this.

Sehun rolls his eyes, smile returning, and Chanyeol only gets harder to relax. 

"Why can't I? I just wanted to check on him," he shrugs, head shaking in feigned ignorance. "He's been through a lot these last few days; he could use some affection from someone who, you know, could actually  _protect_  him." 

Chanyeol launches forward, but Baekhyun and Jongin launch forward, too, in order to hold him back from doing anything stupid. 

"You don't go around grabbing other people's husbands by the throat, you fucking --" 

Jongin slaps a hand over Chanyeol's mouth and pulls him farther away, shaking his head vehemently. Sehun seems to think it's hilarious, bending over and dissolving into laughter, but the rest of the room dissolves only into horrified silence. 

"We'll leave," Minseok says quickly, grip on Sehun tight and demanding. "I'm sorry guys, good night." 

Once Sehun has been forced out of the room by the majority of the cousins, Jongin leaves, too, ashamed smile too much for Baekhyun to bear right now. Left alone in the silence and aftermath, Baekhyun finds himself taking Chanyeol by the hand and leading him back to their room, too dazed to think of much else than getting clean and sleeping, of calming Chanyeol down and attempting to forget what had just happened. 

\--

Baekhyun is washing his face when he feels Chanyeol's warmth behind him, long arms seeking Baekhyun in a sideways hug -- a makeshift apology, maybe. 

"I shouldn't have jumped at him like that, I know," Chanyeol whispers, as if the words can't be said too loud, lest they lose their sincerity. 

"You shouldn't have. But he also shouldn't have tried to massage my neck -- or whatever the hell he was doing, I'm still not sure." 

Chanyeol snorts again his shoulder at that, a smile forming against Baekhyun's skin in a way that feels familiar and domestic.  

"It wasn't even that he touched you, it's that he acted like he didn't  _know_  why you're injured, as if he needed to inspect it," the taller's voice is deep with exhaustion. "And, I don't know, I just _feel_  like he knows more than he lets on, and that he's taunting me because I couldn't keep you safe that night." 

Baekhyun stands up fully, patting his face dry, eyebrows raised in shock. 

"You shouldn't take anything he said seriously, Chanyeol." 

"I know I shouldn't, but -- but I wasn't there the night you got those bruises. And I'd hoped they'd heal quickly so you could forget about it easier. But he comes in and touches them so casually, makes you acknowledge them when you don't  _want_ to. It felt like I was watching you get injured for the second time."

The shorter shakes his head, no, and moves a hand to rest on Chanyeol's chin softly. The taller looks up in surprise, asking a million questions at once with his eyes, too many to count, too many to deal with. Baekhyun's second hand joins the first, framing Chanyeol's face with slender fingers. There's not much Baekhyun is sure of between them, but he knows that he wants to trust Chanyeol, that there's something unsaid in their secretive touches that means so, so much more. 

Baekhyun swoops in, a tiny kiss planted on Chanyeol's unexpecting lips. 

"Don't let him get to you, really." 

"It made me feel sick and useless and terrified all over again, like the night I just had to sit and wait for someone else to find you," Baekhyun can feel the frown through his hands and makes a point to kiss it away again. "I don't want you to ignore the bruises, but I didn't want to draw attention to them, I didn't want to touch them, I didn't --" 

Long fingers move to hold the back of Chanyeol's head, twisting inbetween strands of hair, pulling his husband down to his neck. The directness makes Baekhyun blush slightly, but he ignores it, turning away so that his neck is exposed. Chanyeol makes a confused sound, breath fanning across Baekhyun's collarbones, and stills in the older's hands, too shocked to comprehend what's happening.

"Kiss them." 

It takes a long moment for the taller to realize what Baekhyun is asking him to do. He's about to protest against it, frightened to press too hard against the bruises and cause pain, but then Baekhyun's hands pull him closer, impossibly close. 

"It's okay. I want you to kiss them, so I can forget who put them there, so I can forget who touched them earlier." 

The room seems to still completely as Chanyeol tenatively moves to the bruises, softly pressing his lips over them. It feels like the world could tip at any moment, as if everything is hanging on the edge. Lips moving slowly across the bruises, kissing away a timid line in between them. Chanyeol feels his heart speed up as the heat between neck and lips simmers. 

Baekhyun nods slightly and loosens his grip on Chanyeol, suddenly realizing how intimately close they are, how gently Chanyeol's lips are moving up from his neck to his mouth. The world has tipped, and everything is chaotic, filled with heat and longing and and soft hands threaded through hair. It's been a long time, they realize belatedly, since they've melded together like this, eager hands grappling together, pressed against the bathroom counter. 

They break apart, Chanyeol moving his head back into the crook of Baekhyun's neck, leaving one more gentle kiss over the stained skin. 

"Let's sleep," he suggests, arms wrapping around Baekhyun quickly to lift him towards the bed.

Baekhyun laughs at how childish he feels being carried and cuddled, but he decides that he likes it, especially when Chanyeol is invading his personal space and sharing heat and making sleepy noises against the top of his head.

"It's good to be home," Baekhyun declares, snuggling deeper into Chanyeol's chest. "Good night, Chanyeol." 

\-- 

The sunlight easily streams through the curtains, bathing the entire room in warmth. It's beautiful, Baekhyun thinks, and he watches the ocean perform its daily push and pull from his place in Chanyeol's arms. He's contemplating what to eat for breakfast -- fruit, or maybe eggs? -- when he hears a phone ringing loudly, startling all early morning domesticity out of his system. 

It also stirs Chanyeol out of his sleep, leaving Baekhyun practically crushed when the taller starts to stretch and roll over with Baekhyun still in his arms. Baekhyun squeals and squirms out of his grasp, acting as fake offended as he possibly can while he searches for the ringing. It's not his cell, he's figured that out, and he's not even sure it's  _Chanyeol_ 's cell. 

"Do we have another phone?" the shorter asks sleepily, scanning the room for the source of the mystery noise. All he sees is windows, windows, and more windows, accompanied by some occasional furniture or curtain. 

"I have a landline, yeah," Chanyeol mumbles, voice raspy and hair a complete mess. "I'll check it." 

Baekhyun watches him fumble cutely over to a table in the far corner of the room. One exasperated look from Chanyeol confirms that the landline is the culprit. but the taller goes to fixing his hair and clothes by the tiny table instead of answering, as if the other person would be able to see him during this call.

"Pick it up," Baekhyun whines, holding his head to block out the too-bright sun and the annoying noise. Morning got a lot less cute after a solid minute of phone ringing, he laments to himself. 

Minutes pass of Chanyeol standing in complete silence, as if in a trance, before he finally hangs it up with a, "Thank you." 

"What is it?" Baekhyun asks around his toothbrush, walking back from the bathroom. 

Chanyeol sits down on their couch, utterly bewildered. This only spikes his husband's interest, so he moves to stand by the taller, kneeing him gently to coax an answer out. 

"They moved up the wedding -- _extremely_  up." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONCE AGAIN....IM SO SORRY. College orientation and prep really hits you hard, guys. But this dumb bitch (me) is going to finally be writing more regularly, even if it means I stay up till 4am like tonight lmao 
> 
>  
> 
> also: i made a twitter!!!!!!! lol 
> 
> https://twitter.com/baekyalls   
>  


	7. seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back! so sorry for the prolonged wait! hopefully this 5.2k chapter makes up for it lol

Baekhyun downs the champagne left in his glass, relishing the way it sets his senses alight for a brief moment, in the way it relaxes his nervous hands. He's unfocused, eyes tracing the pattern on Chanyeol's plum shirt, trying to find where it all starts and where it will end and how the collar winds around his husband's neck. 

The talk in the room is almost deafening, but Baekhyun can't make out most of it, despite his name being on the tip of everyone's tongue.

"The wedding will take place in the next two weeks?" 

Chanyeol smiles at his great aunt (or something like that, Baekhyun's sort of unsure, really) and nods. At the mention of the wedding, Chanyeol's hand moves to rest on the smaller's knee comfortably, fingers far too familiar to Baekhyun. 

With the wedding rapidly approaching, the smaller wants to lean into the touch, to practice dance with Chanyeol, to kiss with their hands intertwined and mouths smiling. He wants to do everything that comes to mind when he thinks of the word husband, but the hurriedness of their engagement -- and now their wedding -- makes him hesitate for fear of being alone in this sentiment. 

"Yes, I'm very excited. After what happened, it was decided all would be better off if the country could visualize Baekhyun as my husband -- having a face and ceremony to connect to is essential, after all." 

Chanyeol says it in his matter-of-fact voice, the one that only comes out in front of his older cousins and relatives in situations where he fears being seen as lesser than. 

The tone hurts less than the words spoken, though, and Baekhyun ignores the knowledge deep down that he's part of an elaborate business deal, that Chanyeol is charming and smart but never really _his_. He’s gotten good at banishing that thought from his mind. 

"Of course, of course," she responds, tone equally academic and nonchalant. "Without a wedding, relationships mean nothing to the citizens. Who cares about a new member of the royal family if they can't picture them as a royal?" 

The way Chanyeol nods back in agreement makes Baekhyun want to rip his hair out.

"Technically, we're already married," Baekhyun butts in, making a show of the ring on his finger. Maybe he's being sensitive, or maybe he's just acutely aware of how calmly Chanyeol brushes off their relationship, but he can't help it. "We pushed it up to make my position look official, to scare off people with bad intentions because, after a wedding, the entire country will know my face and position." 

He's said too much, he's sure, and when he looks toward Chanyeol, the annoyance wading in his eyes only confirms it.

Baekhyun knows he shouldn't be like this, though sometimes hearing Chanyeol acknowledge how fake their relationship truly is puts him on edge. That morning when he'd woken up tangled in Chanyeol, finally safe and warm and content, his domestic illusion was shattered by the sound of a phone ringing.

He'd momentarily forgotten that Chanyeol's doting was the product of commitment to a business deal and the people of his country. That lapse of judgement had come to an abrupt end when it was announced that their wedding was being rescheduled, that what was supposed to be the most loving day of Baekhyun's life was being rescheduled like a fucking _meeting_.

He was excited at the thought of the ceremony, of his parents coming, of kissing Chanyeol in front of the country, of course -- but it all felt  _wrong._ It felt far too fast, too careless, too lacking in sentiment.

"For his safety, of course we would speed up the formalities --" 

"I'm going to go get some more champagne," Baekhyun interrupts Chanyeol's rushed explanation quietly, hating how much that overheard conversation boiled his blood, how he can feel his cheeks heating up in some mixture of anger and shame. 

"They'll come around, you don't have to go --" 

Baekhyun's not sure if Chanyeol continues trying to convince him because he's already walking away, mind feeling slightly blurred by the champagne and the pitiful pang ringing through his chest. It's not Chanyeol's  _fault_ that their engagement was rushed and their wedding was moved up, Baekhyun reminds himself, though he wishes there was a way to convince himself fully to ignore his lingering feelings of sadness.

He's kind of stumbling -- great, the combination of his wine at dinner and few glasses of champagne after has him a little tipsy already -- so he makes a pitstop on one side of the enormous ballroom. An emotionally charged Baekhyun and being tipsy doesn't mix well, he knows that from experience, but there's no one around for him to take it out on, really. Just a crowd of strangers and diplomats, a room full of people celebrating his and Chanyeol's official wedding announcement, a room full of businesslike conversations like the one he'd just escaped from.

There are two upsides to this event, Baekhyun notes to himself. Chanyeol -- currently occupied and slightly dead to Baekhyun, if only because of a drunken minute of anger -- and the resident goddess of the palace, Joohyun. 

His husband's other cousins had all been caught "busy" (though Baekhyun has a sneaking suspicion it has something to do with the altercation between the two tallest boys the time before), leaving him standing alone in the corner, feigning a search for the nearest champagne. 

His eyes trail from the lavish buffet table across the golden-dusted marble floors to see that Joohyun is at the head of the table, mingling with others in her sparkling scarlet dress, dark curls falling over her shoulder in a way that makes Baekhyun sigh with a sudden surge of happiness.

Watching her glimmer like a fallen star snaps him back awake as if he's been in a trance. Joohyun is lovely and kind and trusts Chanyeol with all of her heart. Joohyun truly adores her cousin with her entire being; Baekhyun's convinced of it. There she is, smiling, proud of the fact that Baekhyun will soon be seen as a real part of her family, happily making conversation about the announcement, chatting about the palace affairs that Baekhyun has so aggressively avoided. 

Baekhyun looks back into his sad little corner, into the fear and sadness that had so quickly gripped him and set him free again. Chanyeol is his  _husband,_ he thinks frantically, and soon they will be recognized nationally as such. Soon, Chanyeol will be confident and loved by the people again -- soon, Baekhyun will be able to wake up in his husband's arms and not fear of what the day holds. 

Even if it's all fake, even if Chanyeol uses him only for an advancement in the palace and a body to hold when the sun sets, Baekhyun decides to glimmer like Joohyun, to look Chanyeol in the eyes and kiss him with a smile and dance in the twinkling sunsets like he's imagined.

"Are you okay?" Chanyeol's voice and its proximity startle Baekhyun violently, making him jump back in shock, hand clutched over his heart. 

"I'm fine," Baekhyun feels guilt creeping up his cheeks to mingle with the blush already settled across them. "I'm just feeling . . .  _off_  about our wedding getting treated like any old board meeting." 

Chanyeol nods knowingly and looks around them to check that his words won't be overheard. When he's satisfied, he pushes himself closer to the corner of the room, effectively trapping Baekhyun against the table. 

"I'm sorry about it. I know." 

His voice is dangerously low, filled with a regret that Baekhyun can't deny. He moves a little closer, resting his forehead against Baekhyun's for a tender moment, eyes open and studying the shorter the entire time. Baekhyun can't help but smile a little when he notices that Chanyeol's eyes have crossed, but he stifles the giggle with a hand, using his free hand to push his husband away.

"Chanyeol, stop. I'm going to knock over a cake or something." 

When he hears this, Chanyeol laughs too, eyes crinkling into crescents; it leaves Baekhyun's stomach in knots, this time for a completely different reason. He catches himself before he can match that toothy smile or bust out in more laughter, fear of their guests catching sight of them goofing off stronger than even the softest gaze Chanyeol can throw his way. 

"I really am sorry," Chanyeol supplies once again, arm moving to reach toward the smaller. "I know it's weird that it's all like . . . this.” 

He stares at the outstretched hand with hesitant eyes. Chanyeol is such an enigma to him -- one minute, the things Chanyeol say light a flame of anger in Baekhyun's chest; the next, his gentle smiles extinguish any fear that could still be smoldering in the shorter. Baekhyun wants to trust him, wants to just let it all go, but there's the tiniest bit of logic in the back of his head warning him of the possible outcomes in keeping up their odd friendship.

"In two weeks, the wedding will practically be here," Chanyeol stops to stare as Baekhyun connects their hands, albeit rather halfheartedly. "Which is why I want to take you somewhere next week. To get your mind off of the chaos back here." 

Baekhyun perks up at this despite himself, allowing himself to move small fingers against Chanyeol's in a silent show of excitement, of acceptance.

"I want to take you somewhere no one else has ever been." 

\-- 

"You packed plenty of shirts?"

"I don't even know _what_   _type_ of shirt I'm supposed to be packing, Chanyeol. You won't tell me exactly where we're going." 

"Just pack what I pack. Actually, nevermind, it doesn't matter -- I'll pack for you, okay?" 

Baekhyun thinks his voice sounds too sugarcoated for a conversation about packing, but Chanyeol's been in a great mood ever since it was decided that Baekhyun wanted to go on this mysterious adventure with him. He's been holding him tighter in the nights (to the point that Baekhyun had to push him away because it got stuffy -- he still wouldn't budge) and pulling him aside for quick kisses in the halls. 

Baekhyun had just been going to pick up some tea from the kitchens this morning when Chanyeol pulled him into a sitting room devoid of others for a hurried makeout session, too warm and too soft and too Chanyeol _._ It was far too much for eight in the morning, that's for sure. When Baekhyun called him out for it, Chanyeol only kissed his cheek before leaving the room, radiant smile and dumb, perfectly messy hair looking too beautiful for Baekhyun’s wellbeing.

"Are you taking me on this trip to make up for the rushed wedding? Because you know it makes me sad?" Baekhyun avoids eye contact with his husband, preferring to fold his pajama shorts for the third time instead. 

"Does marrying me make you that sad?" Chanyeol's voice is downtrodden. "I know it's a lot to take in. After the wedding, you'll have more responsibilities. I'm sorry I got you got looped into all of this, honestly." 

"It's not the responsibilities and it's  _definitely_  not marrying you -- you're so nice; I got lucky," Baekhyun shrugs to hide the embarrassment creeping throughout his body. "There's no romance in a rushed wedding like that." 

Chanyeol's confidence seems to inflate after the first comment, smile reaching his eyes and pink cheeks. He's moving closer slowly now, and Baekhyun notices that the light in his eyes seems to brighten the entire room, makes each breath he's taking feel lighter, sets his senses alight. Then Chanyeol is closing the gap between them, lips soft and gentle but rough, so rough, and Baekhyun is bending into the touch, is reaching out to wrap himself in Chanyeol.

"This is romantic!" Chanyeol laughs against his lips, but Baekhyun barely has any breath left -- he can't waste it on laughing or talking. Instead, he pulls Chanyeol closer to him, lips sliding open and allowing Chanyeol to taste him fully. 

Bodies pressed together, Baekhyun sighs into the kiss, thankful for the bed being so close to them, for the soft lull of waves he can hear from the window. It's been so long since he and Chanyeol kissed like this, since Chanyeol's hands roamed over his skin with anything other than gentle intent. Now there's a boiling heat that's threatening to spill over, a confession wrapped between two pairs of lips, a secret affection translated by soft fingertips down his sides.

Baekhyun feels like he might explode, like Chanyeol's deepening kiss and sudden, tight grip on his ass is a complete sensory overload. He wonders if Chanyeol can feel the pure fondness pouring out from every pore of his body, if some of his feelings are being transmitted with each shaky breath. Before he can worry too much about anything being given away, Chanyeol's lips are leaving his, their knees meeting instead. His husband is pushing him backwards toward the bed ever so slowly, fixated on Baekhyun's face and neck and everything he can touch as he does it. 

"This isn't the romance I want for our wedding," Baekhyun finds it in himself to tease, even with Chanyeol's dark eyes studying every movement he makes. 

Chanyeol is too preoccupied with the buttons on Baekhyun’s shirt to respond immediately, the task at hand obviously frustrating him. The taller frowns at the buttons holding the dress shirt to his husband's body, practically pouting, and Baekhyun moves his trembling hands to help out. 

"You don't want to have sex in the middle of the ceremony?" Chanyeol's voice is hushed and almost spilling over with amusement; the sound of it makes Baekhyun's heart feel far too light, far too warm, far too happy. 

"It wasn't on the itinerary," the shirt is gone, thankfully, and their lips meet again, this time gentle and slow. "Should we ask the wedding planner?" 

Chanyeol nods into the kiss. After what feels like an eternity of backward shuffling, Baekhyun feels the back of his knees hit the bed frame and he graciously leans down, allowing the pair fall into the bed. 

The sheets are familiar and soft, filled with nights of warm bodies and mumbled conversations. Baekhyun thinks he's spilling morsels of his feelings out with each moan that chokes out, with each cry of his husband's name that tumbles from his lips, with each unsaid word of affection that settles between them when they hold each other close. 

\-- 

It’s colder than expected. They’re somewhere mountainous and far away from the palace, hundreds of miles from the ocean and the warm breeze that fills their bedroom with fragrant air in the mornings.  Here, there’s crunchy grass under their feet and crisp air. For a second it feels like Seoul in October, leaving Baekhyun smiling through his shivering. 

There’s a house behind them, one that is small and quaint and lovely. It’s light orange, a pale, faded tangerine among rolling green hills and rocky cliffs. The hue is reminiscent of the palace, and suddenly Baekhyun feels as though there’s a piece of it here, as if the small wooden door will make way for marble archways any second. 

It doesn’t. The wind only whips against the pale shutters, small rain droplets beginning to hit the soil around them. 

Chanyeol’s body heat is back and the smaller is infinitely grateful, moving closer to the taller as if there’s magnetic energy between the pair. Chanyeol’s busy talking to their chauffeur, black hair whipping back and forth in the chilled air, but he naturally leans toward Baekhyun, too. 

The car crunches its way down the gravel path, taking all of their security and supervisors with it. To a location nearby, Baekhyun is sure, but the feeling of being completely alone with his husband is foreign, almost too good to be true. 

"Baekhyun?" Chanyeol's voice is quiet and a little bit timid, something sweet bubbling in his tone. 

He looks away from the gravel road to make eye contact with his husband -- rushed, gleeful eye contact that dissolves into turning away almost instantly, suddenly overcome with shyness that's never been present before. 

Slowly, Baekhyun realizes, this is like a  _date_. Their only date, to be specific, and Baekhyun feels his cheeks sizzle under Chanyeol's gaze. 

"Don't you want to know what this place is?" 

Then they're moving inside, hands fumbling to find the other's in a mix of natural intimacy and fearful newness. The keys jingle against the lock, and Chanyeol uses his shoulder to push his way into the small cottage. 

It's filled to the brim with softness. The walls are an off white, and tile painted with pale orange flowers covers the expanse of the tiny interior. There are plush blankets and woven rugs and sheer curtains and too many pictures to count. The entire cottage  It feels like a shrine to a smaller, more giggly Chanyeol. Frames line the walls, colorful and glittery and mismatched. 

It feels like an apartment, like a sliver of modern life hidden among the marbled walls and sweeping staircases of the palace, Baekhyun marvels. Among all the pictures of tiny Chanyeol, there's an even tinier painting nestled near the door, the figure scribbly and misshapen but recognizable. 

"That's you," Baekhyun points out, though the large ears and goofy smile give the muse of the painting away. 

Chanyeol chuckles, "It's me. My mom painted it. Her hands were a little shaky, that's why I look like I'm melting." 

There's an inquisitive silence that settles over the pair after his words, too nervous to ask for more details and push it too far. Chanyeol notices the smaller's hesitation, though, and moves to sit on a beige couch covered in pastel pillows. 

"My mom got sick," he shrugs and pats the sat next to him. Baekhyun complies, liking the way they smush together on this lovechair in a chilly room. "There wasn't really much we could do. But she liked to paint, and she liked to take pictures, and she'd -- she'd always wanted a normal house." 

The realization sets in rather quickly for Baekhyun; this is Chanyeol's mom's  _house_. 

"My dad bought her this place so that she could, you know, escape the palace and the eyes after treatment," Baekhyun is fairly sure he can identify the thick emotion that seems to be caught in Chanyeol's throat. "She went through a lot of treaments and it made her weak. She didn't want her maids or friends or family seeing her like that." 

Baekhyun moves so that his head is on Chanyeol's shoulder softly, a tiny, warm gesture in hopes of comforting his husband the tiniest bit. Chanyeol accepts it and leans into the smaller, the two completely tangled on the small couch, an odd mix of grief and happiness perforating the air. 

"I just feel bad because, really, I don't remember her," large hands take hold of Baekhyun's. "Obviously she remembered me. I'm everywhere. I had siblings, but they weren't hers -- she was a second wife. It sounds dumb to say now, but I was her baby." 

Baekhyun lets himself giggle a little at this, only because of the smile that's residing in Chanyeol's eyes by the time he's finished speaking. They look at each other for a split second, brown eyes meeting each other, a whisper of trust and affection sparkling in them.

"Did you come here when you were younger?" 

"I wasn't allowed to. She didn't want me to know she was sick. But when she died, it was given to me. I normally come for my birthday and her birthday -- but I thought we could visit and breathe for a minute."

Baekhyun feels a surge of melancholy sweep through his chest, leaving his heart burning and mind confused. Chanyeol is truly opening up, is finally letting him see the side that others can't, is taking him places that are special to him. 

It feels like Chanyeol sees him as a husband, as a confidant, as someone to spend a lifetime with.

"I love you." 

It's out before he can stop himself, and Baekhyun chokes on air immediately. He's pulling away from Chanyeol on the couch and forcing distance, too confused at the slip of words. _Fuck_ , he thinks, he likes Chanyeol, he admires Chanyeol, but he doesn't  _love_  him -- he can't, not yet, not on his mother's couch in the middle of the mountains, not a week and a half before their wedding when he's wearing an old hoodie, not when Chanyeol is just staring back at him blankly. 

Chanyeol opens his mouth, but he can't get anything out, not before Baekhyun is shaking his head and sitting back on his heels (he'd scampered to the very corner of this very tiny couch in an attempt to avoid Chanyeol's response, leaving him crouching and panicked.) 

"I meant  _love_ , like -- like friend love. Like, you're a great person. I love you," Baekhyun curses the fact that he's said it again, knows that his cheeks and ears are a blistering red. "Love you, not  _in_ love with you." 

This clarification is sloppy and makes Baekhyun feel a little sick to the stomach, but whatever confusion was swimming in Chanyeol's big eyes is promptly squished. There's a sense of acceptance, and Chanyeol is nodding slowly, a rather forced smile making its way across his face. 

"I know, I know -- it's okay, really," he laughs and it turns into a cough. "You're good. It's okay." 

It's  _not_  okay, Baekhyun knows, because he didn't mean it like that at all. He'd meant cuddling and kissing and laughing together, he'd meant the feeling of looking at his ring and thinking of Chanyeol's dimple. He'd meant a lot of things, and none of them were _that_. And now Chanyeol is convinced that Baekhyun blurts out words he doesn't mean and can't control his feelings, but it's okay, he convinces himself. Chanyeol said it was okay. 

He's going to try and explain again -- perhaps a little bit more articulately this time -- but Chanyeol is hopping up off the couch and wiping his hands on his pants. 

"You want to make something to eat?" 

Baekhyun nods and ignores the uncomfortable rush of relief and panic (and god maybe that is a little bit of love?) that settles in the bottom of his stomach. Instead, he turns his attention to what pasta he should help Chanyeol cook, to which apron he wants, to the way Chanyeol's eyes look duller than usual, to the way Baekhyun feels both nauseous and giddy when they brush against each other. 

\-- 

The third day, it's overcast. The weather is nothing too dramatic, but the dark grey skies are enough to make the already chilly weather feel truly cold. Baekhyun is wrapped in a large cardigan that Chanyeol had brought along, eating some sort of oatmeal with fruit in it -- also courtesy of Chanyeol -- when the taller of the pair bursts in the door, a bright smile on his face. 

It'd been extremely weird the last two days, but Chanyeol had finally started to brighten up again, to shrug off the awkwardness that Baekhyun had been clinging to ever since the sudden confession. 

"The squash is all ripe. We can walk down to the garden and pick it!" 

Chanyeol, Baekhyun has discovered, adores gardening. He insists that he got it from his mom, but Baekhyun has sneaking suspicions that he's always liked flowers and fruits and vegetables, liked growing things and being proud of them. For someone who spent most of their youth in loneliness, Baekhyun understands the appeal of nurturing a plant -- he'd loved many things the same way as an only child. 

He nods and stands from the table, wrapping himself tighter in the cardigan, in the smell of Chanyeol. They're outside and walking down a tiny path half making conversation and half enjoying a comfortable silence. 

The comfortable silence that settles between them when they're eating or when they're watching a movie is like nothing Baekhyun has ever experienced. He's always felt obligated to talk and fill the air with jokes and giggles, but with Chanyeol, it can be quiet. It can be sweet just with their eyes, everything understood in a way that feels so natural, so comfortable, yet so wholly unfamiliar and frightening at the same time. 

There's nothing like the way the cold wind picks up and brushes Chanyeol's haired back, the way they crunch down a path for three minutes in order to make it to the garden -- the way Chanyeol slips his hand into Baekhyun's ("to steal your warmth -- it's  _my_ cardigan.) 

"Your hair is so curly today," Baekhyun notes, heart tripping when Chanyeol squeezes his hand in response. 

"I'm returning to nature. Mother nature wanted me to be curly. Should I not be curly?" 

Baekhyun squeezes his hand back, the words he'd let slip out a few days ago at the tip of his tongue again, though this time directed toward each attribute of the taller. He wants to say that Chanyeol's hair always looks good, but it's especially beautiful when it's curly and floppy and tickles Baekhyun's cheek while he's sleeping.

He wants to tell him that his nose is the cutest nose he's ever seen, that Baekhyun's heart dropped to his knees that first night at the club when he looked into his eyes, that there wasn't a feature on Chanyeol that caused any sort of negative reaction for the shorter. 

His brain supplies words for this: adoration, love, lust -- Baekhyun isn't quite sure yet, but he thinks his favorite is adoration, followed closely, so closely, by love. Instead, he pinches the skin on the back of Chanyeol's hand in a teasing way. 

"You look like a clown," Baekhyun savors the look Chanyeol throws back at him, all pouty and pink from the wind. "You're cute." 

Chanyeol smiles at this, pulling his hand closer, resulting in Baekhyun tailing him ever so closely, hand clasped around the taller in a grip that he's not sure he will ever want to loosen. 

The clearing is in front of them now, a small garden of squash and herbs fenced in with large bushes. It's adorable against the backdrop of trees and the faint outline of mountains somewhere in the distance. The garden itself is cozy, an extension of the house and its grounds in every way possible, even down to the comforting vibe it exudes. 

It's especially cozy because Chanyeol's so close and so giddy. He's gripping Baekhyun's hand like it's a vice, cheeks tinged pink from the wind or their proximity, Baekhyun can't be sure. But he does know that he can feel Chanyeol's pulse through their connected limbs, and the taller's heart is doing jumping jacks. 

"Thank you for bringing me," Baekhyun is determined to avoid any sensitive topics or emotions this time, but he needs to say something, needs to have words to pair with the image of a smiling Chanyeol in this garden. 

"You needed a breather from all the palace bullshit," Chanyeol turns his back to the squash, focusing solely on the shorter before him. "You didn't choose it, so I don't want to force you to stay there at all times." 

"You didn't choose it either -- you were born into it. We're both breathing, okay?" Chanyeol's heartbeat picks up and Baekhyun is overly aware. "It's for both of us." 

"It's for both of us." 

Chanyeol's lips quirk up, dimple showing for the first time in days. Baekhyun feels a little dizzy from the direct eye contact, from the feeling of Chanyeol's pulse pounding against his, confirming that there's something unsaid sizzling between them. 

He's going to say it, god damn it, he's going to  _mean_ it. Chanyeol deserves to hear what he's thinking, deserves the truth -- needs to know that Baekhyun is feeling something stronger than he'd expected, that each heated touch and burning smile are fueled by a simmering love deep in his chest. 

"Ch --" 

Thunder cracks. It interrupts his thought enough to stop it altogether, and suddenly there's droplets of water on Chanyeol's forehead and nose. It's started drizzling cold rain, too chilled for them to stand comfortably in, not cold enough to cool the heat spread across Baekhyun's cheeks. 

"I guess we'll get squash tomorrow," Chanyeol's voice is slightly annoyed (cute, Baekhyun tells himself, he's so cute). "Damn it, I had everything planned out, too." 

Baekhyun takes pause at that word, eyebrows quirking up at his husband.

"Planned?" 

Chanyeol shakes his head, pushing the smaller toward the route they came from, hands moving to wrap the cardigan further around him. The run back to their cottage is exhausting, filled with rain and mud and Chanyeol's whining. It's only when they're standing, now completely drenched, on the porch that Baekhyun brings it up again. He looks Chanyeol in the eyes, watches a drop of water fall from his eyelashes. 

"What'd you plan?" 

Chanyeol smiles and looks down, frightfully embarrassed. "I planned a picnic, but it had to go and  _rain_." 

"Like a date?" Baekhyun can hear every heart beat in his ears and he worries that he won't be able to distinguish Chanyeol's response from his body's own overreaction. 

"I wanted to give you a first date," Chanyeol shrugs. "We're getting married, but we've never had one. The first time I took you out, you were kidnapped. The first time we met, we ended up having a one-night stand ending with you  _running away_  and leaving a note." 

Baekhyun wants to laugh, but there's a glimmer of sincerity in Chanyeol's eyes, so genuine even beyond the jokes and reasoning. He wanted to have their first date -- he'd planned a picnic. 

"I know it's lame. I'm a prince, I probably should've you taken out to a five star restaurant or something --" 

Baekhyun on his tiptoes, lunging forward to stop Chanyeol's words with a soft kiss. Slightly wet from the rain, but soft and lingering and pure. He moves to pull away, but Chanyeol wraps cold arms around him, pulling their bodies closer together, one wet thumb tracing the outline of his cheekbone ever so gently.

They pull apart gasping for air, the kiss ringing on their lips and through their minds impossibly fast. 

"What was that for?" Chanyeol asks softly, hand still tracing patterns on Baekhyun's cheek, warmth spreading between them despite the weather. 

Baekhyum shrugs, feeling too overwhelmed to say much of anything, too focused on the way his lips are tingling, on the way Chanyeol's hands burn soft against his skin. 

"Our first date was great, actually," Chanyeol pulls him in for a tiny kiss. "Thanks for walking me home." 

They're laughing, and suddenly it all feels normal again. Chanyeol wrapped around him, heartbeats syncing, lips finding each other's naturally -- it feels like love, but Baekhyun decides that a first date is good enough for now. 

\-- 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhm. I'm back. sooooooooo sorry. college started and im probably double majoring so ...... my classes have been wild. i finished 3/4 essays due in this next week and sat down to write this dkdfkjdf
> 
> sorry for the wait! i'll try to be better!!!! i'll work on updating my other story very soon as well. love you all and thanks so much for the support and sticking with me! <3
> 
>  
> 
> twitter: @baekyalls  
> ao3: baekyall  
> curiouscat: curiouscat.me/baekyall


	8. eight

Everything is warm -- the crackling fire and Chanyeol’s hands included. It’s a blur of smiles and lips pressed against each other, of familiar hands roaming ever so slowly. They’d changed from their rain-soaked clothes as soon as they’d made it inside, but the process was slowed down by sneaky touches and fleeting glances. Something had changed on the porch out there, something unspoken that had kept them from gravitating together in more than a physical way. Now, there’s no barrier, just soft voices and jokes mumbled from their cozy position on the couch, only feet from the warmth of the fire. 

Baekhyun wants to tell him it all. He wants to confess that maybe his slip up a few days ago hadn’t really been a slip up -- maybe he really was in love with the taller, maybe there’s a chance for their marriage to transform into something sincere instead of flings and arguments and consoling touches. 

But he pushes that thought down, focuses on the feeling of Chanyeol's lips moving tenderly against his, on the hand tugging at the top of his pants. Baeknhyun's heart speeds as they're pulled down; Chanyeol moves from sitting beside him to drop to the floor, hands anchored on the smaller's hips. He sucks in an involuntary breath and bucks his hips forward, too sensitive with those hands holding him down, with those eyes looking at him. 

In the dimmed light, his hair glows brown, cheeks orange, eyes so black that Baekhyun feels as though he could fall into them. There's a thought reflected in those eyes, one that makes Baekhyun's stomach clench, makes him squirm under their gaze.

"Chanyeol, you don't --" 

Chanyeol silences him by launching forward to lick at the smaller's stomach, to nip at his hipbones. This is dangerous, Baekhyun thinks, this is something they'd never really done -- it'd felt too intimate for him for to do without being asked, without wanting anything in return. Chanyeol's mess of hair moves down further, and Baekhyun's eyes snap shut on reflex, mind still reeling at the boundary that's being thrown aside by Chanyeol right now. 

Everything is Chanyeol -- his lips and tongue and hands -- warm and addicting, soft and overly stimulating. Baekhyun gasps and grabs at the damp head of hair, making sure to wind his hands through the strands the way he knows Chanyeol likes when they're kissing. There's searing heat, and Baekhyun thinks he might scream. Chanyeol's bobbing his head up and down, and the soft noises that are coming from the taller force Baekhyun's eyes open, too scared to miss a second of what's happening. 

He's bathed in orange light, and he's looking up at Baekhyun. Cheeks red, lips swollen, Chanyeol's focused only on him, on the way he's reacting, on the way he's unraveling in front of him. It's too much to process, Baekhyun knows this, and he's squirming at the thought of Chanyeol getting off to this, too. 

 "You like this?" Chanyeol asks quietly, almost a whisper, and Baekhyun feels his stomach drop at how raspy his voice is.  _Of course_  he likes this, Baekhyun on the verge of combusting inside. Seeing Chanyeol like this -- eyes big, voice deep, lips wet -- is enough to make anyone weak at the knees, he's convinced.

"I --" Baekhyun forces himself to keep his eyes open, even as Chanyeol's mouth comes closer again, hot breath fanning over him. "I like it. A  _lot_." 

Chanyeol takes this as encouragement, tongue twirling around the tip, hand slowly rubbing Baekhyun's upper thigh. It goes on for what feels like forever -- he's teasing, Baekhyun realizes, and he can see a glimmer of amusement in the taller's eyes. One of Baekhyun's hands is still softly tracing Chanyeol's scalp, still too timid to fully grab on when Chanyeol's mouth isn't on the same page, the other hand grabbing for the couch in desperation.

Chanyeol's eyes haven't moved from observing the smaller boy, though his hands are having a good time roaming around Baekhyun's thighs and drawing patterns in order to watch the smaller . He's figured out how to make Baekhyun shake and now he's milking it, is making the smaller teeter on the edge of true pleasure, only squirming and gasping, never fully letting go. 

Baekhyun figures that they've already broken so many unspoken rules between them tonight, who cares if he crosses the line one more time? He uses the hand that's still gripping Chanyeol's hair to pull him forward, moving his hips to meet the taller's mouth, finally feeling the searing heat, finally letting out a loud moan, head thrown back. 

Chanyeol's responding, hands pushing his hips back down with a controlled strength, mouth never losing contact, never stopping its languid movements. When Baekhyun manages to look down and meet his eyes again, they're filled with blatant lust, with a fire that his actions had lit -- it's enthralling, and Baekhyun's other hand lets go of the couch to tangle in Chanyeol's hair as well.

The sound that his husband makes only causes Baekhyun to arch his back more, lean into the grip Chanyeol has on him, gently inch forward in order to make Chanyeol's voice sound raspy again, to guarantee that Chanyeol's eyes will only look at him. It works, he realizes, and soon Chanyeol is pushing down further, is tightening his grip on Baekhyun's hips, bringing him impossibly closer -- they're so connected, and Chanyeol is so receptive. Heat is settling in Baekhyun's stomach all too quickly, and he's trying -- god, he's trying so hard -- to form the words, to put this rush into words. 

"Chan -- Chanyeol, I'm going --" 

 Chanyeol nods, which only makes Baekhyun's current state worse, and leans forward even more, letting his soft hair brush against Baekhyun's navel, his soft cheek brushing against a thigh for a split second. It's enough -- Baekhyun is moving his hands from the taller's hair to cover his mouth, back arching so that he's practically balancing on Chanyeol. 

The taller scrambles to grab Baekhyun's hands, pulling them down, back to the shorter's hips to rest with his own. He intertwines their fingers and flicks his tongue so quickly -- and it's all white. Baekhyun isn't sure he's properly breathing, that he's still functioning -- all he can register is the way Chanyeol's hands feel when they're clasped so tight with his like this, the way Chanyeol swallows around him, slowing moving to lay his head against Baekhyun's lower stomach. 

The way Chanyeol moves to hold him only seconds after makes him feel as if, maybe, there's no rules between them at all anymore. He hopes his soft kisses and slender fingers pumping Chanyeol to his finish minutes later conveys this same sentiment, though he can't be quite sure, not when Chanyeol's soft laughter and words and lips are ringing through his head like a melody.

\-- 

"I don't want to go back," Baekhyun says pitifully, turning his head to hide his face in his pillow. He can feel Chanyeol turning to his side sleepily and he's already imagining the puppy-dog look that's probably taken hold of the taller's face. "The palace is tiring. And stifling -- even with so many windows." 

Chanyeol mumbles something, though it's incomprehensible because of the sleepy haze over the both of them. Baekhyun looks up from his pillow to observe the man next to him -- he's glowing in the sunlight, eyes tired and cheeks pink. Baekhyun notices, with some embarrassment, just how naked he and Chanyeol both are, how golden his husband's skin looks when rays of light dance through the window. 

"We only have to be there for a little while," Chanyeol suddenly speaks up, voice gravelly for reasons that make Baekhyun blush despite himself. "We're leaving for our honeymoon right after the wedding. And once we're married in the public's eyes, the king will no longer think of me like a plague. We might have some freedom." 

Baekhyun doesn't want to get his hopes up, though he finds himself wishing for that freedom to be extended to Seoul, to his home and his apartment and his family. This spark had shown in his face, though, if Chanyeol's face transforming into a tiny smile gives him an indication. 

"I'm sure we can go to Seoul," Chanyeol's rolling toward him, eyes like sunshine on Baekhyun's skin. "I'll go anywhere for you." 

He stays quiet after that, as if he is too scared to further explain himself or as if there's nothing left to say -- Baekhyun can't be sure. They're entangled now, arms wound around each other gently, breathing evening out against each other's cheek.

"Are we . . . friends?" 

His voice is hushed, as if asking too loud will break the sleep-induced calm of the room or alert Baekhyun of what he really just asked. Baekhyun thinks about the way Chanyeol's hands drag him under like waves, how they make him feel weightless, how they drag him down so easily to meet his lips. He thinks about the sound of the ocean's waves from their room -- remembers all the times he'd watched the sun rise over the water and studied the orange shadows it cast against the taller, how perfectly the water reflected against his eyelashes.

"No, I don't think so," Baekhyun's cheeks are heating. "I think you're the ocean and I'm the sunrise. I think that's what we are." 

"I'm not poetic. Is that good?"

Baekhyun shrugs, letting himself laugh when Chanyeol begins to pout. 

"I'll tell you more in our vows," Baekhyun promises, inching closer to plant a small kiss on Chanyeol's cheek. He smiles in response. The sunshine crests the waves, and orange settles over them both -- a color of vibrancy, of sweetness, of something akin to love.

Chanyeol nods against the top of Baekhyun's head, too sleepy to debate what Baekhyun meant anymore. Instead, he returns the favor with a tiny kiss on the cheek, eyes hazy with both exhaustion and adoration. 

Baekhyun feels the presence before Chanyeol, letting out a tiny shriek when he opens his eyes and confirms that there's someone standing in the corner of the room, eyes on them. At the sound of Baekhyun's panic, Chanyeol's eyes open, frantically searching the room and coming to an abrupt halt on the figure in the corner. He's sitting up as fast as he can, moving to push Baekhyun back or find a weapon or  _anything --_ despite his lack of clothing, the smaller notices.

He's grabbed a cup from the nighstand and is hellbent on throwing it at the man, halting only when he finally recognizes the man. 

"Don't do that!" Chanyeol's voice is shaky, obviously affected. 

The guard bows in apology. "I thought you had heard me come in, your highness. I'm sorry."

The realization that this is someone hired to protect them sets in and Baekhyun lets out a labored breath he hadn't registered he was holding. His husband opens his mouth to say something more to the guard, but he's cut off by the guard's hurried voice, a sense of urgency bubbling underneath his professional exterior. 

"There's news." 

The morning is a blur of packing and confusion. The guard isn't allowed to disclose the information -- he informs Chanyeol of this in a tone filled with respect and regret --  and it's imperative that the pair come back to the capital. Chanyeol attempts to stay calm, to pacify the guards with a fake sense of leadership and ease.

Baekhyun fears something has happened to one of the cousins, that in the short time they've been gone something has gone terribly wrong, that Chanyeol will be devastated and the palace will be thrown into grief. This thought dies, however, when he makes eye contact with a police officer waiting by their ride home -- it's something even more dangerous, he's sure of it now, and he grips tighter to Chanyeol's hand to keep from showing just how much he wants to stay in this tiny cottage away from the world.

\-- 

Baekhyun is pushed by guards from the car to the palace despite Chanyeol's desperate hand wrapped around his. They try to stay together in the crowd, but there's too many hands and voices and cameras flashing -- the paparazzi are here, Baekhyun belatedly realizes, and it's pure chaos. He reminds himself to breathe, to not look at any one source for too long, to make it inside and that's  _it_. 

It's not just the reporters and onlookers that are pushing and pulling them from each other, though -- Baekhyun recognizes some of the guards as they move to cover Chanyeol, leaving Baekhyun with three large men. The rush to get them into the palace overwhelms the usual politeness shown towards him, and it shakes Baekhyun to his core -- he'd never been ushered inside like this, never seen Chanyeol handled like he was actual royalty, never felt this unsafe in any way when Chanyeol was so close. 

The arches and gardens of the palace suddenly feel as if they're closing in, too tall and too dense. Maybe this is all a labyrinth and the the façade is one falling petal away from crumbling. If Baekhyun breathes too hard, he fears disturbing the balance and sending the thriving garden and airy palace into utter chaos and destruction -- monsters and darkness and cold air seeping through closed doors. 

He can't shake the feeling that something is fundamentally wrong, but then he's inside, door closed behind him. The men disperse and suddenly Chanyeol's next to him again, offering a tiny, scared smile. Baekhyun can't do much else than smile back, leaning so that their arms are touching slightly. There's something in the way Chanyeol's large hands are shaking that leads Baekhyun to reach out a pinky, wrapping it around the taller's. An electric buzz of affection hums between them, and Baekhyun likes the way they must look to the guards, revels in how sincere this feels. 

"This way, your highnesses." 

Chanyeol's pinky grips tighter, and then it moves to feel for Baekhyun's palm, letting their hands fall together in their natural way, a nervous kind of comfort held between them. A balance, Baekhyun reminds himself, the sunshine and the waves bouncing off of each other. 

Large white doors are pushed open, revealing a room that Baekhyun doesn't think he's seen before -- a room that is tiny and dingy, no windows in sight. It's a prison of a room compared to the fluid, airy nature of the rest of the palace. The aura of seriousness presented by the small room and all of its occupants leaves Baekhyun slightly baffled, stomach churning with nerves. Something has gone  _wrong_ , he knows.

"The last time I was in here, my uncle was sentenced to death," Chanyeol's voice is as low as can be. "This isn't a good room." 

Baekhyun's nerves increase tenfold, and suddenly he's panicking for the sake of his husband. He's not sure he can focus on the thought of Chanyeol being sentenced to anything, so instead he looks around the room again, trying to find any miniscule detail to focus on instead of the pounding in his ears. He looks at all people gathered and freezes at the sight of styled brown hair and soft eyes -- Jongin. 

It's easy to distinguish the rest now that he's noticed one of the cousins, and he counts all of them but one. A certain angular, petulant boy is missing from their cluster of men, but it's probably for the best, Baekhyun thinks in relief.

"Your cousins are here," Baekhyun points out, tugging the taller's arm along with him toward the group. "Maybe they know what's going on." 

He truly tries to get through the crowd in the small room, though it's harder than he'd anticipated. There has to be at least fifty people in a room fit for twenty -- and, Baekhyun notes with a hint of mortification, they're all in  _suits._  Looking down at the forest green pullover he's wearing and turning to see that Chanyeol is in a plain sweater, Baekhyun is sure they look like common people among royals, like fools who aren't informed on the reasoning behind this rushed meeting.

"It's useless," Chanyeol sighs against the back of Baekhyun's neck before pulling him to an empty space against a nearby wall. It's still crowded and awkward, but it's slightly more private and infinitely less stressful than wading through a crowd of overly-dressed men. The room falls hush suddenly, and Baekhyun looks to the front of the room, surprised to see the familiar face of the king standing a mere twenty feet away, jewels and crown on full display. 

It seems as though he will talk, but then he takes a solemn step forward, letting a different, spindlier man come from behind him to read from a piece of paper. It feels horribly eerie, and Baekhyun's eyes search for Chanyeol's, relieved to see that Chanyeol is just as confused by what is unfolding in front of them.

"We have found those responsible for the attack against Prince Chanyeol's consort," a deep voice says. Baekhyun stiffens. "The king wishes to address them in a public setting, in front of officials and royals alike." 

"Chanyeol," Baekhyun feels his throat closing. "Chanyeol." 

The taller is already leaning forward, looking as though he's ready to push through the crowd to get to the perpetrators. He's pulled back by the smaller's steady hand, their fingers clenched together in fear and shock. He tugs on Chanyeol silently, asking for him to come back, to not lose his temper on whomever they bring to the front, anchoring him to his side for reassurance. 

He can feel eyes on him, knows that the entire room has located the prince and the prince's consort in question -- he knows that some gazes are filled with concern but that, mostly, the gazes are teeming with curiousity, and he can't blame them. Not when he thinks about what a spectacle this must be for an official to witness, for the rest of the princes to stumble upon in this emergency meeting. 

The taller is still trying to break from his husband's grasp and make his way to the front -- to do what, Baekhyun doesn't want to contemplate too much about. The absence of Sehun lingers in the corner of his mind, but he ignores it, too scared to weigh in on that possibility fully, to fall into paranoia too quickly. He knows it's ringing through Chanyeol's mind, but he tells himself to stay rational, to stay calm, to trust that Sehun wouldn't stoop that low.

"Chanyeol, please," Baekhyun is speaking so quietly that he's not sure if Chanyeol can even hear him; he just hopes that his hands and face can convey the message, can plead for peace and comfort when the people who planned to hurt him are brought up. "I need you to be next to me."

This stops him in his tracks, allowing him to gravitate back toward the smaller, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as if it will shield him from the impending emotional damage. Baekhyun breathes in his scent, ignoring all the eyes that are  _definitely_  fixed on the pair now, and tries to think about how he should react to whatever is about to happen.

"I'm here," Chanyeol's voice is a whisper. "I wasn't there for you when it happened, but I am now. I'm here." 

Chanyeol's sweet words dissipate into thin air the second newcomers start filing into the already-packed room. Two are stocky men, followed by an entourage of guards and security. Baekhyun's brain is filtering the connections between these men and his kidnapping, between these men and the worst days of his lfe -- his jaw is clenching, even as he tells himself to calm down, even as he wills his pulse to slow. 

When he notices a familiar face in the entourage, however, every fiber of his being snaps in half. There is no self control, not when he sees that Sehun is trailing behind, surrounded by guards, getting royal treatment even as he is paraded through for involvement in illegal activities. His heart is pumping so fast that he thinks he might pass out, and suddenly Chanyeol's hand in his doesn't matter -- nothing matters except the fact that all of those men planned a threat on his and Chanyeol's lives. 

"It has been found that a group of Oh loyalists planned the kidnapping in order to scare the Park family. It is unknown what others motives may have played a role, and Prince Oh is suspected of having knowledge of these plans, although he did not partake in making them or carrying them out. " 

Baekhyun is sure that there's more the announcer wants to say, but he can't let him, not when he thinks about the sound of his heart thrumming in his ears. He can't let it go, not when the bruises on his neck have barely healed, not when he thinks about the Oh family and their loyalists ruining Chanyeol's childhood. He knows he will regret this, but he can't find it in himself to care, not when the fear and sadness left behind from the kidnapping is suddenly converted into blind rage. 

He's pushing away from Chanyeol and into the throng of people in front of them, using every ounce of his strength to move politicians and royal family members out of his way. There are people calling his name, Chanyeol and the rest of the cousins, he presumes, but he pays them no mind, moving forward violently through the crowd until he's face to face with the men who are charged with his worst memories. 

"Fuck you," there's nothing else to say, he realizes. "Rot wherever you end up." 

It feels vindictive and ruthless and -- in hindsight -- reckless and awful. But there's a fire coursing through his veins, lighting each step and word and emotion. There's no Baekhyun left in this voice, just pure fear and hatred. Then he's lunging forward and landing a hard punch against one of the men's jaws, so hard that he feels his fingers cracking, too. It hurts so bad that Baekhyun wants to stop and scream, but then he sees the fear building in the second man's eyes, the shock residing in Sehun's, and there's a rush of satisfaction. 

"You ruined everything for him. And you tried to ruined  _me_. You tried to hurt me and scare me and you -- you fucking took me," Baekhyun's aware of how hot his hand feels, almost as hot as the tears burning down his cheeks. "You don't have any right to treat someone like that! You're awful, disgusting people."  

He's moving to hit the second when strong arms grab onto him -- security. Chanyeol is grabbing his other in less than a second, hardened eyes focused on his hand -- which is definitely misshapen and bleeding, Baekhyun suddenly notices. The room is alive with loud conversation, with sounds of yelling, with bright colors and fuzzy shapes. Baekhyun feels dizzy. 

"Are you okay?" Chanyeol's voice is frantic, and he swats the security off of Baekhyun, pulling him away from the group of men. There's nowhere to go, he soon remembers, and now they're thrust into a group of panicked businessmen, all shouting at security and Baekhyun and the people outside of the room. Baekhyun can hear his name being repeated over and over, and Chanyeol's beautiful face gets a little more blurry. 

"They're --" Baekhyun's hand is hurting like nothing has ever hurt him before all too suddenly. "They're  _evil_. Chanyeol, I want to go back to our room. I want to sleep -- I don't feel right --" 

Chanyeol's nodding, and then he's not there anymore, and Baekhyun's hand stops burning, finally. 

\-- 

Baekhyun thinks he might be dreaming, but he's not too sure, not when everything feels so real. The palace is alive with chatter, filled with twinkling lights and decorations that remind Baekhyun of home. It's rich colors and jewel tones and his mom's favorite rug. Chanyeol's laughing somewhere -- he can tell -- and Joohyun's holding hands with a little girl. He thinks that maybe it's winter, that this might be Christmas. 

The waves sound cold, he notes, and he looks up at the holly covering every arch, at the translucent, emerald green curtains -- he's right, he concludes. Chanyeol sits down next to him, cheeks pink and smile bright against the faint glimmer of the moon. Chanyeol's song is playing somewhere in the background, softly, and he thinks he can hear his voice from next to him, whispering something about cooking dinner together. 

When he opens his eyes, however, it's only to a sterile white room. There's no decorations, no sound of waves, no Chanyeol -- it's empty, and his arm feels like it shouldn't belong to him. He looks down at the cast they've set his hand in, at the way his wrist is bruised -- definitely broken and it's definitely because he never learned how to properly fight. 

"Are you awake?" the nurse is pretty and friendly. Baekhyun decides he likes her and her accent, especially since it sounds like home, like Seoul. "You were out for about a day. They put you on some heavy pain meds, is all." 

The more she talks, though, Baekhyun realizes that it might not be an accent, especially when he tunes in on conversations from the hallway and hears the dialect clearly. He's  _in_  Seoul. Chanyeol's smile flashes through his mind immediately, leaving him terrified to ask the question on the tip of his tongue. 

"Am I in Seoul?" she nods. "Am I alone?" 

This time, she shakes her head. He feels a weight lifted off of his chest, relief replacing the panic flowing in his veins immediately. 

"Your parents are here, of course," she smiles, turning on her heel to leave. "No eating for the next few hours, got it?" 

He nods back numbly, a new sort of panic pooling in his gut. His healthy hand is fumbling for his phone, unlocking it and immediately going to check for any news related to the prince -- his prince. Suddenly, he wants to be dreaming again, wants to be in Chanyeol's arms during the winter, wants to forget everything that's happened since he's woken up with a numb hand. He knows that this is because of his outburst; he's certain that this is the cover-up plan of an embarrassed king. 

_Prince Park Chanyeol and Heir Byun Baekhyun Call it Quits: Palace Officials Cite Personal Conflicts_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg! i'm back! i'm posting regularly! and also...... i'm sorry. you know i had to do it to you :-)   
> bye bye <3
> 
>  
> 
> ao3: baekyall  
> twitter: baekyalls  
> other: curiouscat.me/baekyall


	9. nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait! it's a little bit of a longer chapter so hopefully it makes up for it <3

His head is spinning. Maybe it's the way the nurse just moved his arm, causing a searing pain to shoot through every nerve on the right side of body, or maybe it's the way his mind is working overtime trying to configure what's happened in the span of the last 48 hours.

The room's walls are far too bare, too clinical, and the smell of disinfectant makes Baekhyun's stomach churn. It's not the only factor playing into his confusion, but the environment of the room is having effects on him that he couldn't have expected. 

He wants to go home, and that's all he's sure of. (He ignores the clench in his stomach when he realizes that when he thinks of home, he pictures only Chanyeol.) 

"Mr. Byun, can you calm down?" the nurse's voice is soothing, but it does nothing to help him hide his agitation, to soothe the anger boiling in his veins. "Your guardians will be coming soon. Just take a deep breath." 

His stomach lurches at the thought of his parents finding him in this state, of having to explain to them that he wants to leave this hospital more than he wants to breathe right now. Somehow even more than that, he's scared to explain that he wants to go back to the tall prince with a goofy smile, to the airy palace that is filled with the smell of flowers and salt water. He wants to see Chanyeol, to feel his warm hands all over him again.

As much as he'd longed for Seoul, he feels apathetic now that he's back, now that there's no one to share it with like he'd so hoped. He'd wanted to show Chanyeol Seoul's busy streets and infinite city lights, but, somewhere along the way, the twinkle in Chanyeol's eyes replaced the lights and Chanyeol's chatter and giggles replacing the busy streets. He'd filled up the ache that Baekhyun had, embodied the city that he loved so much, and become his home without doing anything besides simply being himself. He longs for the attention and touch of the taller, even if he knows that there might be no sincerity dripping from his fingertips. 

Now, it doesn't matter. He doesn't care if Chanyeol wants to hold his hand or take their marriage seriously, doesn't mind if it everything between them is purely physical -- he just wants to wake up in the same room as the taller, hair tussled and soft against their pillows, sun seeping in through sheer curtains. He wants to notice Chanyeol smiling at him when he doesn't think he's looking, wants to walk through painting-lined hallways, wants to see the cottage in the mountains again. 

He wants to go back to Chanyeol. It hurts to think about, so Baekhyun refocuses from the chaos inside his mind to the peace the room is drenched in. He's the only disturbance, voice dry and panicked and asking too many questions. 

"Why am I here? Why did he let them take me here? When can I leave? Why am I _here_?"

It doesn't take the frantic beeping of the monitor attached to his pointer finger to indicate how fast his heart is racing, how much adrenaline is pumping through his system at the thought of Chanyeol letting them take him away, at the thought of their marriage being canceled so publicly in the mere hours he was passed out. 

"Why did I come here? I shouldn't be in Seoul." 

His last blurry moments of consciousness before he'd fainted were of Chanyeol's concerned face, of sturdy hands reaching for him and wrapping him up in safety even as black stained his vision. In that last moment, Chanyeol was there, and he'd fully believed that he would wake up in their bed, Chanyeol's deep voice whispering the answers to his questions. 

Instead, he feels panic trickling up his throat, and he gasps against it, confusion and fear too stifling to deal with so quickly. 

"Mr. Byun, calm down, please." 

Baekhyun wants to laugh at her trained, serene voice, at her clearly practiced words, but he can't, not when everything is blurry and he can't stop imagining his husband allowing them to fly him home unconscious, letting their marriage end with no words. Instead, he tries his best to slow his breathing down, closing his eyes and leaning against the itchy hospital sheets -- he needs to calm down, needs to get this woman to leave him alone for a minute. 

"Good, good," she smiles and checks his chart. "I'll be back in an hour to give you some more pain reliever and help you be discharged." 

 _Oh._  

Baekhyun feels like screaming his lungs out at that -- of course, he realizes, he'd only broken parts of his right hand. There was no reason for him to be trapped indefinitely in the hospital, there was no reason for him to lay around weeping when he could leave in as soon as an hour. 

She's gone now, and Baekhyun is scrambling for his phone again, this time dialing his husband's -- could he even call him that anymore? -- number with a fervent nervousness. He's terrified for Chanyeol to pick up, but god, so, so desperate for it to happen. 

His heart sinks lower with each ring that goes unanswered, with each attempt at calling that is seemingly ignored. Chanyeol won't pick up, even after five missed calls, and it sends his mind reeling at the thought of Chanyeol either ignoring him or being forcibly pulled apart from him. Both make him hurt, but they're each a different sort of pain, one acute and stabbing, one a low ache that makes him nauseous. 

He calls once again to no avail, and now his heart is pounding much too fast, blood rushing to his ears in sheer panic and worry for Chanyeol's safety, for the slim chances of seeing him again. It feels like he's been purposefully seperated from the taller, but then doubt creeps in his mind, a bitter voice reminding him of the times that they'd joked about being just friends and how their touches meant nothing, all fun and games and sneaky kisses.

Maybe it had been true -- maybe Chanyeol had never felt anything besides lust, and maybe Baekhyun had accidentally allowed love to cloud his thoughts and convince himself that Chanyeol was feeling the same thing, transmitting the same energy with each kiss and laugh and touch. Perhaps Chanyeol had noticed the spark in the smaller's eyes, had panicked because of the tender way that Baekhyun called his name. The shorter's rose colored glasses would've obstructed this, wouldn't have noticed that Chanyeol had realized his true affections, had pulled away from him completely. To Chanyeol, their marriage and subsequent relationship could've been a complete disaster, a business deal gone awry that he desperately needed to put to rest -- and Baekhyun's outburst was the perfect opportunity. 

He feels like he might vomit, mouth watering, but he closes his eyes immediately, blocking out the thoughts of Chanyeol doing anything like that. He hasn't talked to him yet and, despite the circumstances he's found himself in, he wants to believe that something is wrong with the situation, that there has been a mix up, that this will be resolved and Chanyeol will find him, that he'll finally tell Chanyeol the truth of how the taller makes him feel. 

In an attempt to remain calm as thoughts and fears and hopes overwhelm him, Baekhyun tries to focus on how gently Chanyeol's hands would move to hold his, the way Chanyeol's eyes would crinkle when he told a joke, to the times that they'd found solace in each other's voices late at night, sprawled together in their bed. It's sad, he thinks, that Chanyeol is what he's using to calm himself down, even as their relationship is crumbling in front of the entire world. 

His slow, methodic breathing is broken by the ring of his phone, a gasp slipping out involuntarily as he clambers to answer it as quickly as possible. The number is one he doesn't recognize, but when he thinks about where he is right now and where Chanyeol could possibly be, he decides that answering is more vital than wondering.

"Hello?" Baekhyun's voice is garbled with emotion, and he strains to hear for any noise possible that would indicate the taller's presence on the other line. There's a throat being cleared (it's the voice of a man, Baekhyun notes hopefully, a new rush of emotions hitting him too suddenly to comprehend fully.) 

"Byun Baekhyun?" the voice is  _not_  Chanyeol's, but he doesn't end the call, too afraid to extinguish the last ember of hope burning in his tight chest. It may be someone related to Chanyeol, or someone calling on behalf of him, he reasons. 

He won't hang up, but he refuses to answer yes or no, knowing far too well the consequences of random callers guessing his number correctly. As the child of someone leading in their career field, Baekhyun has experienced a lot of scams and potential threats. He hopes it's not either of those, if only because he's too agitated and exhausted to scream back properly. 

"What's the real reason you and Park Chanyeol split? There are rumors of infidelity and abuse spreading around, and I'd like to get the truth," Baekhyun's mind stutters to a stop. "I'm reporter Kim --" 

He hangs up, shaken.  _Infidelity and abuse_  -- words that Baekhyun had never even considered associating with Chanyeol, much less accusing him of, replay in his head over and over. He considers them once, twice, still unable to make much coherent sense of where this information is coming from, if there's any information at all. 

He takes to the internet, frantically searching for articles again, astounded at the mere amount that have been posted since he'd last checked -- as far as he knew, their engagement and marriage made little to no news in Korea, at least until now. There's at least twenty that pop up immediately, a common story woven throughout all of them: Baekhyun hadn't been faithful, and Chanyeol had taken it out on him. The sudden break up and hospital stay was the result of Chanyeol's outburst, and now Baekhyun is hiding somewhere in Seoul, too scared to face people after his husband had publicly lashed out at him and ruined both of their reputations. It's absurd, Baekhyun realizes, anger brewing once again in the pit of his stomach. 

Baekhyun feels numb reading it. He  _knows_  it's not true, yet there's nothing he can do to stop this from spreading besides giving an interview -- something he is positive his father will not let him do. A tell-all interview is the opposite of what's needed. Baekhyun's father, of course, would think that only complete secrecy and allowing the blame to fall to Chanyeol would be the right course of action. 

His hands are shaking, with anger or fear he's not completely sure, and he can hear his deafening pulse once again -- this time he just doesn't care enough to calm himself down, immediately moving to call someone he trusts more than his parents, currently. 

"Yuri? Can you come get me? I'll explain more later."  

\-- 

There's a stinging sensation ripping through his throat, and suddenly Baekhyun realizes that he hasn't gotten drunk in a long time, at least not  _really_  drunk, not as drunk as he's trying to be right now. The last time he remembers feeling out of control was the night he'd been wholly enchanted by Chanyeol, and, currently, that's his end goal -- feeling free, forgetting everything that had happened since the night the taller invaded his life and mind and heart. 

His plan is foiled, however, when a manicured hand snatches the glass away from him, a stern look of disapproval thrown his way from glittering eyes. 

"Why are you here?"

Yuri's concerned, but, even more than that, she's annoyed. Not with Baekhyun, he knows, but with this situation -- with driving to the hospital to help Baekhyun avoid confrontating his parents, driving the both of them back to a familiar restaurant to talk, and babysitting Baekhyun as he whines for more alcohol and refuses to speak about the situation he's running so desperately from. 

Baekhyun thinks about the question for a moment, and then his throat is closing up because, honestly, he would like to know that as well. 

" _I don't know_!" Baekhyun feels tears welling up, but he blinks them away, focusing on an abstract painting catty-cornered from their table. "I don't know why I'm here." 

"You shouldn't mix alcohol and medication," Yuri takes a sip of water. "Especially painkillers. Why don't you have some tea? You've always liked chamomile." 

He pouts at her, shaking his head as if to clear it. "Tea doesn't make me forget the last two months of my life. That's my goal today." 

Yuri's eyes harden, and soon she's moving close, too close, direct eye contact overwhelming. Baekhyun shrinks back, suddenly feeling a little bit scrutinized by the older woman. He's positive that she can read something in his eyes, that she knows far too much of the turmoil bubbling inside him right now. 

"You love him?" Yuri's eyebrows quirk up, and the way Baekhyun sputters at the question makes her smile. "Okay, that's settled. So what  _happened_? Why are you in Seoul when your husband is an hour's flight away?" 

Baekhyun hates that she has a point -- he's so close, truly. But it makes his heart ache to think of getting on a plane only to get turned away at the gates, to chase after Chanyeol when he's not even sure if the taller tried to keep him from leaving in the first place. It stains his pride, and, at the moment, Baekhyun is already severely lacking in that department. He can't afford to go out on a limb and reach for Chanyeol, not when he's been forcibly sent away, not when the one he loves hasn't made any effort to find him. 

"Baekhyun, you can't just wallow in self pity. You need to go find him, and you need to get this fixed -- married couples don't just cry and ignore each other." 

"But that's the thing -- we were never really married," Baekhyun's voice is coming out thick, as if he's struggling to breathe and talk at the same time. "It was all just on paper -- we called each other _friends_ , Yuri. They dragged me out of the palace while I was unconscious and he _let them_." 

"Obviously _you_ didn't feel like you two were just friends, and I don't think he fixated on that word, either," Yuri's tone turns soft. "I saw your engagement pictures. Everyone was buzzing about it -- you both looked so happy and natural. No one here thought you were faking anything, and I still don't." 

The lump in Baekhyun's throat grows larger and soon his eyes are spilling over, an overwhelmingly emotional thought hitting him suddenly -- he'd never seen their engagement pictures finished, never observed the way Chanyeol looked at him, never remembered the chilly wind and their intertwined hands as anything but the day he got his ring. It's painfully obvious now that it really  _was_  a photoshoot, that no matter how real the look in their eyes were, it was all manufactured and produced to be consumed by the public. It's the same now, he thinks, a public breakup to cover up his public breakdown -- from start to finish, everything with Chanyeol was observed, analyzed, and decided upon. 

The one thing that wasn't controlled was the way Chanyeol's smile and voice sent heat rushing through his veins, the way he felt both uncontrollably dizzy and utterly safe when their lips moved together. It was all real, too real, and now it had been ripped apart by those higher than them, the ones who fated them in the first place. All because he'd screamed and cried and hit the people who kidnapped him -- the ones who make his stomach empty itself when they appear in his dreams, the ones who make Chanyeol hold him tighter and whisper sweet things. 

He's scared to sleep alone tonight. It'd been so long since he'd been alone in his room, since anything greeted him besides Chanyeol's messy hair and deep voice. This realization and the subsequent thought of Chanyeol asleep alone in their bed only makes him cry harder, now too weepy to stop himself.  

"I miss him, and I don't know why I'm here," Baekhyun hiccups. "He let them  _take me!"_

Yuri's eyes widen and she moves closer, wrapping a soft hand around Baekhyun's shoulder, pulling him into her shoulder. She smells like champagne and citrus, and it makes Baekhyun feel a little more at home, but then he thinks about the way Chanyeol's eyes glimmer after a glass of champagne, the way that Chanyeol's smile every bone in his body down to nothing. 

"You don't know that. He's a prince -- he can't cry out in public, especially not against a king's orders. Don't think like that. I'm sure you mean more to him than you know." 

The thought of Chanyeol caring and not being able to to tell him hurts more than Chanyeol not caring at all, and suddenly he's shoving his head entirely into Yuri's neck, muffled, wet sobs joining the quiet music flowing through the restaurant. He needs to cry, and so he does, even when Yuri makes him stand up and leads him out of the restaurant, a jacket draped over his shoulders. He's exhausted and in slight pain, the fatigue finally settling over him as he sits in the backseat of Yuri's car. 

"Let's take a breath and calm down. Why don't I call Heechul and Taeyeon? We can go out and dance and  _not drink_ ," her voice turns serious for a moment, only emphasizing those words. "We can have a fun time, and then you can wear yourself out and get some good sleep tonight. Just take your mind off of things for a minute, okay?" 

Baekhyun nods, a glimmer of hope shining in the back of his mind that he's too scared to divulge with Yuri -- the last time he'd seen Heechul and Taeyeon, he'd met Chanyeol. However stupid it is to think that the taller would suddenly be there, there's a voice telling him to go, to have fun, to see Chanyeol from afar and fall in love with him all over again. 

\--

Yuri's definition of dancing and having fun differs vastly from Taeyeon and Heechul's -- while the former specifically emphasized that Baekhyun  _shouldn't_  be drinking, the latter two are insistent in getting Baekhyun completely wasted. They're sympathetic to him, but they don't pry and ask questions about Chanyeol and their sudden seperation, instead favoring to hand Baekhyun a shot when Yuri isn't looking. The pair scream along to each song that blares through the building and drag Baekhyun with them, loud voices and rosy cheeks helping him to fake a good time for at least the duration of a song.

It's late now, almost midnight, and Baekhyun tries to revel in the fact that he's not alone in the dark, all-consuming thoughts of his husband invading his dreams. However, he fears that he might feel even more alone in this situation, a drink burning the back of his throat while he scans around dumbly for any hint of Chanyeol. He almost wishes that he'd stayed inside and cried himself to sleep, if only because feeling bad for himself was easier than faking a smile to his friends.

"Baekhyun, I know you're sad," Heechul's syllables sound slurred and sweet, as if honey is dripping off of each word. "But I want you to  _happy!_  Here, have another one." 

Though she's in the middle of a conversation with a girl one table over, Yuri's head snaps toward them, anger flaring up, making her glittering jewels and red nails seem almost vicious in this dim lighting. There's a shade of crimson washing over her that strikes fear into Baekhyun's heart -- he knew what her one condition was to going out, and he'd broken it rather willingly. 

"Another one? Have you been sneaking him drinks?" Yuri's holding Baekhyun's face in her hand, eyes searching his unfocused ones. "I thought his cheeks were pink because it was  _hot_. Fuck you guys." 

"Yuri, it's okay," Baekhyun's aware of how intoxicated his voice sounds, at how much he sways when he tries to maintain eye contact with her. "I  _wanted_  to drink! It makes me feel better! I can forget about things!" 

"Baekhyun, if you can remember that you wanted to forget something, it's not working," she releases his face in disappointment. "That's not healthy -- your hand is still recovering. You shouldn't be _here_. I shouldn't have brought you." 

 This makes Baekhyun inexplicably angry and, suddenly, he wants to let out every emotion that's piled up inside of him. He just wants to forget the way he felts empty and abandoned, the way that his eyes keep searching the room for curly, black hair and a goofy smile. 

"My hand doesn't even hurt," Baekhyun shakes it to prove his point, ignoring the tiny, sharp pain that follows. "Yuri, I just want to be  _happy_! This makes me happy! I love it here." 

Yuri can sense the lie, and she moves to take the shot away from Heechul's outstretched hand. Baekhyun panics and, in a drunken moment of fear, grabs and downs it immediately before she's able to confiscate it. He feels like a child that misbehaves though he knows he'll get scolded, but he doesn't care, not when there's a void in him that feels a little less empty with alcohol warming his bloodstream. 

"Baekhyun,  _stop_!" Yuri's face is red with anger. "Is this what Chanyeol would want? Would he want you to get plastered and harm yourself more?" 

Baekhyun whimpers at that because it hits too close to him, his upper lip trembling against his own will. He pictures the taller's soft lips turning up in a tiny smile, warm hands stabilizing him.

"Chanyeol would want me to be safe," his voice cracks. "But Chanyeol isn't here. He won't be here. He just won't." 

"Baekhyun, that's not what I meant. I'm sorry."

Looking down at the sticky floor and his own shaky hands, he nods, knowing deep down that he's not truly angry with Yuri. He's scared and defensive, but there's nothing in Yuri's protective words and tone that makes her deserving of an emotional outlash. 

"I know. I'm sorry," Baekhyun feels like he might vomit, or maybe he just needs to sleep -- he can't tell, not with the way his head is spinning. "I shouldn't have drank." 

Taeyeon gasps from across the table, eyes pointedly rereading something on her phone, and Heechul joins her only a few seconds later, face filled with dread. 

"What is it?" Baekhyun leans forward just as the pair leans back, jerking the phone as far away from him as they can, as if there's some hidden secret that only Taeyeon received. 

"Nothing," Taeyeon's voice is forced and panicked. She makes frantic eye contact with Yuri, and now Baekhyun's heart is thrumming against his chest so quickly that he hears it loud and clear in his ears. 

"What is it?" 

By the time he stands and gets to the other side of the table, Taeyeon has stuffed her phone in her bag, avidly avoiding meeting Baekhyun's eyes. There's a new element of fear tinging the air around the table, and Baekhyun is scrambling to find his phone in his pockets, hands trembling and mind reeling. 

It takes him barely a minute to find the article -- it's newly published, and it makes his heart drop to the floor, breathing slowing a dangerous amount. 

_Park Chanyeol Moves On? Prince Spotted with Bombshell Beauty Sporting Matching Rings_

Though Baekhyun is sure he's never felt an emotional weight as crushing as this, his last amount of breath is extinguished when he zooms in on the picture to see that they are, in fact, wearing matching rings -- and that the band that matches his is missing. 

At this, he stumbles from the table, legs wobbly, and pushes his way through the crowd of people on the edge of the dance floor. He needs to breathe -- air is vital, he realizes, and he's severely lacking in it. He feels as though his entire body is caving in on him, as if the alcohol was too much in his volatile emotional state, as if he'll collapse if he doesn't escape this environment in the next minute. 

"Baek, come back," Yuri's voice is fading, and he can tell that she's trying to follow him through the throng of warm bodies and loud voices. Faintly, he registers Taeyeon and Heechul yelling as well, their voices somewhat familiar even as the buzz of drunken conversation drowns them out. 

He's almost there -- he can tell by the relieving breeze flowing in, by the thinning of the crowd -- and he feels his heart pick up its pace to match his labored breaths. This is too much, he's realized suddenly, and he wants to hear Chanyeol's voice, wants to know the explanation behind the picture that's burned into the back of his mind. 

In a haze of confusion and anger and shock, he bumps into everyone he passes by, mumbling sorry in his slurred tone, hands numb and eyes stinging.

He's only a few feet from the door when he sees him -- dark hair and a tall frame and big hands, wrapped up with a shining smile. He must be dreaming, he's convinced himself, there is no way that Chanyeol is here, not when this news has just dropped. But there's a familiarity in the way his shoulders lean, in the way the man's jaw is framed by the chaotic red light of the club. 

He's booking it to him, heart almost palpitating at this point, eyes completely full of tears. At this point, the man is a blurry figure of red, but he's so  _close_. He leaps forward, lunging to wrap his arms around Chanyeol eagerly, head immediately tucking into his neck, sobs ringing loud through his mind. 

The man freezes, and Baekhyun feels hands tugging at his waist, urging him to look up. He shakes his head, too scared to let him go, to be ripped apart, peppering tiny kisses along his collarbone as he tries to catch his breath. He didn't think he would be able to feel this again, to be wrapped up in the warmth that is Chanyeol and Chanyeol's scent and -- Baekhyun freezes. 

The realization that Chanyeol's hands don't settle on his waist like that, that Chanyeol's scent is more sweet, that this man is pushing him away, hits him all too quickly, too harshly. He's stumbling back, making eye contact with a confused man that is definitely not Chanyeol, mouth gaping open with grief and shock and the urge to scream. Then he's tumbling down, falling harshly on the floor in a heap of his own yells, his arm suddenly throbbing and his ears ringing. 

Disappointment floods his system, and he's crawling back to his feet, a rushed apology spilling out of his lips as he hobbles toward the exit. There's too much happening to breathe fully, to get a sense of what is the logical course of action, but when he looks down at the ring still on his finger, at the way it gleams in the light like Chanyeol's eyes when he giggles, something clicks. He makes up his mind, however hazy it is at the moment, stomach churning, and searches for the next plane ticket out of Seoul.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YES. HE'S LEAVING. he's gnna go GET HIS MAN. also.....how are we feeling? do we hate pcy right now? is bbh's drunk little ass valid? do we all wish that yuri was our bff? tell me your thoughts. 
> 
> love you all for sticking through with me! thanks my angels! goodnight <3
> 
> aff: baekyall  
> twitter: baekyalls  
> other: curiouscat.me/baekyall


	10. ten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait!

Chanyeol thinks that he might actually suffocate in this room. The thought of what's going on outside of the walls he's trapped between will overwhelm him eventually, sooner rather than later, he's positive. Ever since the incident, the king has been in the palace more and more frequently, keeping the windows and the doors closed at all times, making sure that there is no chance for the tallest prince to slip out of his sight.

Of course, the monarch hadn't allowed Chanyeol to keep any technology with him, citing that it will only hurt his mentality more to read the articles circulating. Chanyeol isn't sure that there's anything that could hurt more than having no way to talk to Baekhyun, no way to explain the situation, no way to comfort the smaller against the winds of worry floating his way.

Even as he stares at the blank ceiling from his perch on the end of his bed, contemplating how he'll sleep tonight, and whether Baekhyun misses the gentle way their hands found each other's under the covers, he can't find a reason to care about much going on in the palace at the moment. The damage control, the cover ups, the fake meetings -- it only leaves his peace of mind withering, a semblance of panic attempting to claw its way out of his chest, the prince devoid of any emotion besides emptiness.

The last two days, he'd been reeling from the sudden departure, from the all-too-quick isolation imposed on him. When he'd been forced to relinquish his ring and attend a very public, very uncomfortable meeting with a woman he'd never even seen before, he'd lost his grip on the last shred of hope. The king tries to justify his actions with some mangled logic, with an explanation that only corrodes Chanyeol's heart more, but the insincerity of it all leads to him sitting alone in his room, hands sweaty and throat thick. 

The sudden rules and utter lack of information stifles him both physically and mentally, leaving the prince in a state of distress, of boiling panic, waiting for any chance to breathe, to hear an update about the one he loves. 

Normally, being shunned to stay in his room would have been an uneventful, even welcomed, punishment. There's nothing he likes more than laying in bed as chilled wind floats through the open window, avoiding the prying eyes of palace guards and officials while sleep makes his eyelids turn heavy. But when the room is shut up, when he's forced to listen only to the silence of his breathing, when there's no one laying next to him and filling the silence with mumbled words and giggles, the appeal of his bedroom has vanished completely. Each corner of this room holds pieces of Baekhyun, both figuratively and literally, and Chanyeol becomes nauseous when he looks at anything for too long.

The bed lacks the warmth that the shorter provided, but it's still alive with his scent, with the imprint on his pillow, with the words that they'd whispered against each other's hair. He refuses to move any of Baekhyun's belongings, to touch the clothes still hanging in the closet. There's a voice in his head whispering that Baekhyun will be back for them, even as he watches the sun set on another day without any contact with the outside world, without any word from the person whom he cherishes with every fiber of his being.

It's his fault -- his brain has made this abundantly clear the last few nights -- for letting himself be separated from Baekhyun, even if it was for the briefest of moments in that meeting room, in a time of confusion and fear and Chanyeol blanking on anything besides _Baekhyun  is bleeding_. But, mostly, he blames himself for falling under the control of the king, though he's not sure what else he can do, not when, until now, his entire life has always been contained inside these palace walls. 

The sky is darker now, a moody gray, and he sits up to look out of the window, eyes searching for the last bit of light to drift across the sea, to cast a faint shadow of orange along the horizon. He spots the dying light, warm and shimmering, and he pictures Baekhyun's smile, Baekhyun's fingers dancing across his arm, Baekhyun's voice lulling him to sleep. 

He hums to himself, the image of Baekhyun's languid lips, dainty fingertips, and silky hair flitting behind his eyelids. It's an effective lullaby, he realizes numbly, wondering just how soft the smaller would feel under his grip right now, how hushed his voice would come out against their sheets, how lightly their lips would melt together as they let warmth and exhaustion overcome them both.

He wonders if Baekhyun is picturing this same thing right now, if the smaller's thoughts are embroiled in the wonder of how well they fit together, like puzzle pieces from separate boxes, thrust together, yet still molding, adapting, interlocking. 

"Chanyeol."

The voice wakes up him abruptly, startles him to the very core. His eyes open as fast as a bullet, searching for familiar, sharp ones looking back at him. He finds them at the entrance to his room, and Joohyun grimaces in response, her face an apology for the surprise she'd induced.

"Are you allowed to be here?" he lowers his voice, worried. "No one has visited for two days. I didn't think I was allowed visitors." 

Joohyun's lips purse in resentment, a dark aura shifting over her as she softly shuts the door behind her, edging into the room and seating herself at one of the couches tentatively. She seems too nervous, too constricted, and Chanyeol tries not to let it fester in the pit of his stomach with the rest of his fear.

"Are you okay?" 

Chanyeol doesn't have to think about his response, not really, not when he sees the knowing look in her eyes, not when his brain floods with images of Baekhyun and he feels his breathing pick up involuntarily.

 "Not really, no," she sighs at his response. "Have you heard anything about Baekhyun? Where is he?" 

The room stills completely, and Chanyeol is sure that only his quickened breathing and erratic heart are filling the silence. Ever since Baekhyun had been absent, the entire palace had shifted from warm hues to cool, gray filling up the spaces that were once so occupied with bright smiles -- and Joohyun's look of anxiety confirms that this won't change any time soon, that Baekhyun is gone. 

"He's in Seoul," she says it like she's devastated, too, and Chanyeol feels a part of him crumple. "They sent him back the same day he collapsed. King's orders. Without him, they could absolve Sehun of blame and make it seem as if Baekhyun had ran away from _you_. They made it his fault, and they sent him back." 

The prince sees red, heart sinking quicker than even his pulse is beating. He doesn't comprehend, doesn't  _want_  to comprehend, not when he pictures Baekhyun waking up alone, in pain, an ocean away. He hates the thought of their distance, but he hates even more that it has been forced on them, that there's no way for him to close the gap immediately.

"Has he seen the pictures?" Chanyeol thinks he might be sick. "They're not real. They can't report it like that -- I'd never met her before, and they didn't even  _tell_  me about the rings, just put one on me and sent me out for a business meeting. She's damage control." 

Chanyeol realizes now that he's shaking with anger and panic, a mix of emotions pooling in the bottom of his stomach. He doesn't want Baekhyun to misunderstand, though he fears that most of the news outlets already have, that he was doomed from the moment they'd ripped Baekhyun out of his grip in that room, insisting on taking him to a hospital, forcing Chanyeol back to his knees in the middle of the crowd. 

Something about what Chanyeol had said rubs Joohyun the wrong way, and she stiffens, mouth opening in defiance. 

“Making you look like a cheater is a shitty way to control damage,” Joohyun points out, nose upturned and eyes sharp. "That won't cover up what they've done."

Chanyeol jolts -- she never curses. But now she looks lethal, even with her soft pink lips and curled hair, even with her dainty necklace and royal airs. When it comes to justice, Chanyeol knows how strongly her emotions control her. It terrifies him, the electric shock that she sends his way with only an icy glance.

He knows what she’s saying is true, understands completely that this isn’t an attempt to make him look better — it’s a sad shot at making Baekhyun look worse, at making the royal family seem righteous for allowing their divorce. Of course, this cover-up plot was hair brained and awful, but, when he thinks about Baekhyun's droopy eyes and trembling lips, he feels bitter resentment broiling deep under his skin.

“When have they ever cared about _my_ image? They shipped me to Paris the second they could,”  Chanyeol sighs at the way Joohyun recoils, feels guilty for bringing it up so suddenly, so violently. “They just want to distract from Baekhyun’s outburst. They want me to be the bad guy, just like always. “

"You're the bad guy, and Baekhyun's the bad guy," Joohyun slams a tiny, balled fist down on the couch. "And Sehun is off scotch-free. Yes, he didn't  _plan_  it, but he didn't stop it when he heard of the plot, Chanyeol. They're acting as though he's angelic, and that the two of you are out to destroy the palace." 

"I know. But I'm locked in this room. I can barely breathe for myself, much less weasel my way to the king. I want to be free. I want to see Baekhyun."

 Joohyun stills again, her face tinted pink at the words. At first, Chanyeol thinks it's because she's embarrassed at his blatant devotion for the smaller, but, no, she is holding something back. She is obviously avoiding speaking her mind, and it makes Chanyeol's brain go into overdrive. 

"What?" his voice rises into panicked territory. 

"I don't think you should see Baekhyun." 

Chanyeol’s eyes are glossy, and they meet his cousin's with rushed fear rising in them. He can't understand what she's saying, but he knows that it tears away at his chest to hear those words, knows that he won't ever stop craving Baekhyun's smile and voice and body.

"Baekhyun has no way of contacting you," she gestures to his room, the prison cell it's started to resemble. "He's home. He's in Seoul, with all of those city lights he used to talk about, with his parents. It's where he wanted to be, Chanyeol." 

The taller is shaking his head fervently, trying his very best to not believe what he's hearing, even as some of her words seep into his chest and hammer away at his lungs and heart. 

"I don't want to hurt you or Baekhyun, but I also know that he's far away from the palace, from the memories that hurt him," she drops her voice at the last part, as if she's too scared to say it much louder, but her meaning is explicitly clear. Chanyeol can read the tone of her voice and the implication of her words as fluently as if it was written in front of him.

 _The palace reminds him of the kidnapping,_ she seems to whisper, _the palace reminds him of arranged marriages, of pain and jealousy and tears_. 

“He didn’t like the palace, but he liked _me._ ”

Chanyeol's hands are fidgeting uncontrollably, dark hair falling into his eyes as he tries to avoid looking at his cousin. He's too scared to see the seriousness in her gaze, to acknowledge the veracity in her words.

Deep down, he's aware that it's true -- even in the most sacred, beloved moments, Baekhyun had felt distant in his arms, an illusion, never a fixed constellation for him to study. He'd taken him from the palace to the cottage in the mountains, had felt the way their limbs melded together in the light of a fire and the cold breeze of the ocean, but he'd never felt Baekhyun the way he'd so desired, the crowded way, rushing cars and sloppy kisses and dark nights that glittered with excitement.

There had always been a piece of Baekhyun that longed to go home, and even if Chanyeol was sometimes allowed a place in it, he knows that a marriage built off business obligations and misunderstood sex was never built to stand, at least not the way Baekhyun deserved. Still, he wants to convince himself, even as the thought of Baekhyun being happier without him overwhelms his senses and drowns out his reasoning. 

"Joohyun, he liked me, I know it. You didn't see how he was when we were alone. The palace wasn't for him, but I -- I _wanted_ to be for him." 

Chanyeol regrets saying that they were only friends, regrets letting Baekhyun laugh off the way their hands brushed together naturally, the way their eyes would meet as if magnetically drawn to the other. He wanted to be so much more; he still wants it.

“Chanyeol, we are part of the palace. There is no us without the palace. There is no palace without us. It’s sad, but it’s the truth -- there is nothing for us outside of these walls.” 

"Baekhyun is outside those walls," Chanyeol's voice is strained and faint, eyes burning despite his best efforts to calm down. Suddenly, he wants to claw at the furniture around him, wants to scream at Joohyun, even if she means well. He knows she does, but she doesn't  _know_ , she can't understand the feeling that Baekhyun gives him, the adrenaline rush that fills his mind every time he earns a smile from the smaller. 

"He's back home," she repeats, voice tiny and apologetic now. "And I think you should leave him be. There was never a place for him here, not when the king so dislikes you, not when he isn't of noble birth, not when his only value for this family is money." 

This strikes a match that engulfs Chanyeol's heart and mind in flames. 

"He has value to me -- he's everything to me. You don't know how it is to be sent abroad and ignored for simply existing, do you?" his tone is angry, bordering hostile, but he can't find it in himself to care much if he hurts her feelings. "He looks at me like I mean something to him and he fills this hellhole with warmth. He makes everything okay." 

"I  _know_  he had value to you," Joohyun sighs, cheeks and eyes turning pink. "But to the king, he has run his course. Even if Baekhyun comes back, it's all for naught, Chanyeol -- I'm trying to tell you that --" 

She chokes on the words, and Chanyeol feels like he might really be sick. If she can't force herself to say these words, after everything she's told him, he can only imagine what they are, too horrid and devoid of truth to merit being spoken. 

"I'm trying to tell you," Joohyun sniffles, and Chanyeol's heart drums. "That it's over. The king has declared your marriage annulled. Baekhyun has no palace to come back to -- you're newly engaged to the woman you met earlier this week." 

Chanyeol is positive that he will be sick now. With that information spinning in the back of his mind, he makes his way back to the bed, fully curling up on Baekhyun's side. 

Her last words ring clearly, stinging his heart with each syllable, even if she's across the room. "You aren't fated anymore. We follow decrees, not our hearts, Chanyeol. You need to learn that." 

The blood rushing to his cheeks and ears overwhelms his senses, tears blurring his vision, and he almost doesn't hear Joohyun shuffling out, door closing and locking behind her.

Alone, he closes his eyes and ignores the tempest brewing inside, hoping that sleeping on this side of the bed won't affect how it still smells of the smaller, hoping that Baekhyun will come back soon to fill that empty space, hoping that the earth will swallow him whole by the time this news breaks. 

\--

Baekhyun is infinitely grateful that, despite his running away from the hospital and avoidance of his parents in the subsequent day, none of his cards or accounts had been cut. Without it, he wouldn't have been able to get on the next flight, wouldn't have been able to be sitting in this shabby taxi, headed toward the center of the city.

It's all very peaceful, shades of blue and orange and pink on the shutters of each house, a quaint familiarity settling into Baekhyun. He likes the flowers that sprawl over each terrace, adores the way the darkness here is so pure, so unblemished, that it lets the natural hues of the night bleed through, stars and all. Even in the most metropolitan area, Chanyeol's city shines with the soft flicker of lights through windows, he taste of city life only on the tip of its tongue. The buildings are tall, imposing, but they're covered in colors of pastel origin, a faint reminder of the ocean surrounding them all, of the flowers that curl around the prince's windowpane.

He's getting nervous, finally. The last hours had been filled with such anger, with violent rushes of adrenaline and bursts of nausea -- Baekhyun had barely had time to process the twist in his gut and the sweat coating his palms. Now, however, he's left alone in his thoughts, throat completely closing in on itself, in the back of this taxi. His arm throbs along with the beat of his heart, too frantic, and he realizes that he needs to breathe some fresh air soon, lest he wants to be sick in the backseat of this car.

"Can I roll down the window?" Baekhyun knows that his voice sounds funny to the driver by the way his eyebrows quirk up.

As much as he'd been in this country, Chanyeol and the other royals had always kept up with his standard Seoul accent, had rarely used their own dialect to converse with him, only among themselves. This leaves Baekhyun at a loss in the linguistics area, cheeks flaming in shame, suddenly wondering just how much he doesn't truly understand about Chanyeol. 

"Sure, young man," he laughs back his answer, eyes crinkling, and returns his focus to the road ahead of them.

Baekhyun lets the air seep into the backseat, taking deep breaths to calm his nerves, to push the bile and tears back down, to bury the fears clawing at the surface of his composure. He's close to losing it, and he knows it's painfully obvious, but his driver doesn't make an attempt to question where he's from, what he's done, what he's planning on doing. 

Which, Baekhyun thinks, is great -- because he doesn't really know the answers either. 

He's still searching for a plan when the car pulls to a stop a fair distance from the palace, and the man turns around, this time asking for payment. Baekhyun smiles, flustered, and hands his card over, ignoring the high-pitched buzz in his ears and the numbness settling in the tips of his fingers. 

Soon, he's on the pavement, finding his way up to the large gates, hoping for a guard who recognizes him, praying for Chanyeol to be inside. He gets none of the above, just a strong arm pushing him down into gravel, a harsh voice asking who he is, a flash of blinding pain spreading through his arm and sending tears into his eyes. 

"I'm Byun Bakehyun," he's gasping out, mouth muffled from the impact of hitting the ground at that speed. "Prince Chanyeol knows me, I promise. I'm his husband, I swear --" 

The guard loosens his grip slightly, moving to make cautious eye contact with the smaller. Baekhyun stares back at his hard eyes, trying desperately to bury his screams in his throat, to appear as non-threatening as possible. 

"Identification?" 

Baekhyun wants to scream that his identification is in his pocket -- the one the guard is currently covering with his strong grip. He wants to cry at the burning sensation finding its way through his arm and cheek and knees, but instead, he shakes his head, yes. 

"My back pocket," his voice is small, defeated, and suddenly Baekhyun wishes for nothing more than Chanyeol's soft touch, than a familiar bed and tender eyes watching him drift off to sleep. He's so sleepy, and he knows that if he closes his eyes, the pain in his arm will stop for a minute, that he'll be back in the taller's arms.  _Oh_ , his mind supplies,  _you're going to pass out again._  

"What are you doing? Let him go." 

The voice is familiar, but not in the right way.

Baekhyun snaps himself awake, eyes searching for the man's face, for the familiar strong eyebrows and thin lips, for the kind eyes that Prince Minseok has always spared for him. In the last minute of pain and flurried actions, a private car for the prince had pulled up to the gate, and now Baekhyun is free -- limp and sprawled on the ground, but free. 

"Are you okay?" the car door opens, and he's being pulled up by the small man, worried eyes searching his face for traces of blood or tears, maybe both.

He wants to respond in a coherent way, longs to thank the older for his kindness, but he's sputtering over his own words, voice choked and head spinning. There's no way for him to feel nervousness now, not even when he's face to face with this prince, not when he feels the ache spreading through his body, the fatigue catching up with him. Desperation has crawled its way into the forefront of his mind, drowning out the pain and the fear and the sadness.

"Chanyeol," Baekhyun means to continue his thought, but he can't, not before he's feeling a new wave of anxiety that paralyzes every muscle in his body. 

But Minseok seems to understand, and soon Baekhyun is sitting in the backseat of the black car, leather seats cold against the burn of his entire being. They're driving slowly but steadily, and Baekhyun's dark eyes catch the rays of light that jump from the many windows dotting the palace, takes notice of the one he thinks used to belong to him. 

"Are you hurt?" Baekhyun shakes his head no, even as his arm blazes in protest. "Does Chanyeol know that you're here?" 

Baekhyun stills, a new fear arising, one that makes his hands tremble with rejection. Had there been a way for Chanyeol to know? Had he the taller truly ignored him? Suddenly, he worries whether he should've come at all, whether he should've stayed with his friends, drank until he forgot the burn in his arm and the ache in his heart, slept away the feeling of Chanyeol's lips against his.

"Of course he doesn't," Minseok sighs. "I should not have asked you that. I apologize." 

"Can I see him?" 

"You shouldn't be able to," he shrugs. "But I'm a high-ranking prince and I would like to see the guards say no to me."

\-- 

Baekhyun knows that it's late, that the moon had risen high in the night sky long ago, that his prince will be asleep. But he can't find it in himself to care about the timing, not when Minseok speaks softly to the guards outside of Chanyeol's room, when he hears the lock click. He's right there, and Baekhyun feels his heart leap, fingers twitching to pry open the door. 

"There," Minseok's whispering, like he has been the entire night, past every door, through each corridor. "I hope you are okay." 

It means more than that, Baekhyun is aware, and he suddenly feels tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. He wants to pull the prince in for a hug, wants to worship the ground he walks on, but he refrains, knows that the older will only be uncomfortable with that kind of treatment. 

"Thank you," Baekhyun hopes that he sounds sincere, that the thickness in his voice doesn't cover the true tone. 

Then he's alone, the door looming in front of him, his breathing registering as terrifyingly loud in this silent hallway. He pushes the door open and looks into the darkness, into the familiar setup of the room, until his eyes land on the slumped shoulders on the bed, the messy head of hair, the pile of blankets only a few feet from him. 

The room feels the same, but there's a shift in the tone, a loneliness nestled in the corners, a sadness covering the windows. Something snaps inside him, and Baekhyun taking his shoes off as quickly as he can, eyes focused on the sleeping man, heart pounding. 

His fingers reach out and feel the taller's shoulder, warm and sturdy as ever, and suddenly Baekhyun can't hold any of his tears back, not when he feels Chanyeol's body move up and down softly with the force of his breathing. He's so peaceful, so beautiful, and Baekhyun had convinced himself that he'd never get to see this again. 

"Chanyeol," his voice is strained, full of sentiments that he wants to convey, full of fears that have built up over the months. "Chanyeol, wake up, it's me." 

The taller's eyes flutter open, a gentle smile spreading across his face, serene and shining, before he closes his eyes again, seemingly going back to sleep. The action makes Baekhyun's heart clench, and now he's climbing into their bed, hands reaching to cup Chanyeol's face as tenderly as he can. 

"Chanyeol," he whispers, mouth moving to leave tiny kisses across his face, ignoring the way his voice is quivering and just how violently his hands are shaking against the taller's skin. 

This time, Chanyeol wakes up and registers that he's not dreaming. His eyes are wide, dilated with shock and love, and his hands wrap around Baekhyun's neck, drawing him in. 

Their lips meet, wet and soft, and Baekhyun feels his heart collapse further, feels every ounce of control left in his body dissolve. Chanyeol's lips are moving so fast against his, pulling him closer until their chests are one, until it feels as though there's no oxygen left in the room, only labored breaths and lingering touches. There is nothing else that Baekhyun needs to live, not when these hands are holding him, so strong and comforting. 

"Are you real? I missed you," Chanyeol's voice is rough, and Baekhyun hears the crack in his voice at next words. "Don't leave." 

Baekhyun nods, small hands moving from his husband's face to move down his chest, settling where he can feel the taller's heartbeat fully against his palm, can confirm that this is all real. 

"Why did you do that?" Baekhyun's head drops against the taller's shoulder, gasping for any air he can get. "Why did you let me go? Why did you go out with that girl? Why wouldn't you call me? I was scared." 

"They wouldn't let me leave my room, they lied to me, they forced me out with her," Chanyeol's hands stop roaming, fiery against Baekhyun's shoulders. "I don't want her, Baekhyun, I want you. I've only ever wanted you." 

Baekhyun responds with a kiss, this time rushed, needy. It's overwhelming, all-consuming, and soon the smaller can't feel anything but the way Chanyeol's hands move across his back, the way his tongue traces the inside of his mouth so softly. He pulls away and lets Chanyeol's hungry eyes meet his, allows the taller to trace a large hand up the expanse of his stomach, stopping only when Baekhyun squirms against it, pleasure evident. 

"Please," Baekhyun is too far-gone, eyes fully blown and hair sticking to his forehead. He can't think of anything but the need to feel Chanyeol, the want to be reminded that this is his prince. He wants to Chanyeol's touch to confirm that he captivates the taller's thoughts, that he's the only one he holds this tight, that there is something sizzling between them. "Please, Chanyeol." 

Chanyeol's nodding, body complying immediately, rough fingers moving to slip off Baekhyun's shirt.

"You only want me," Baekhyun whispers, cheeks red, mind reeling from the feeling of Chanyeol rushing to hold him once again.

"I only want you," Chanyeol confirms it, voice hushed and soft. "I wish it was as easy to have only you." 

Baekhyun stills, body stiff. He's still sprawled against Chanyeol, but suddenly, the feeling of the taller's lips against his shoulder makes him feel as though he's being suffocated, seconds away from toppling over the edge of a cliff he won't be able to scale again. 

"Do you not have only me?" his voice comes out as a choked sob, and the smaller realizes that he's crying, that the taller has stopped moving against him, that there's a heaviness filling the walls and threatening to crush them both.

"Baekhyun --"

"Why can't you just tell them that you only want me? It's not hard, Chanyeol, _please._ Don't make it hard. You can just tell them that you only want me." 

Chanyeol sits them both up, eyes frantic, and opens his mouth to explain his words, to calm the hysterical boy in front of him. 

"That's not how it works," his hands try to wipe the tears from the smaller's cheeks, but he's pushed away by shaky hands. "Baekhyun, I only want you, but it's been declared. I --" 

Baekhyun stands, hands pushing the taller away from stopping him, a sick feeling rushing through him. He doesn't think he can stay here, even if his entire body is yearning for the touch of the taller, even when his mind craves the comfort that the prince so easily brings.

But he can't be Chanyeol's, even when he's the only one the taller wants, and the thought makes his legs quake as he stumbles his way out of the room, heaving. 

\-- 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg....... sorry guys.......... love you all 
> 
> I WILL make this less depressing. next chapter ok? lsdkjfdlsjf 
> 
> anyways,,,, dmumt SLAPS and I have been crying for three days straight now. hope you're all doing well and that you don't want to murder me after this update. bye bye <3
> 
> aff: baekyall  
> twitter: baekyalls  
> other: curiouscat.me/baekyall


	11. eleven

The taller's arms are strong when they wrap around him, pulling him closer again, leading his shaking figure back toward the dimly lit room. He can feel his panicked breathing mingling with Chanyeol's, can feel electricity crackling between them. He wants to lean into the touch, wants to close his eyes and wait for sunlight to make everything okay, but he can't. He can't stop the creeping fear of those hands being on someone else, of Chanyeol choosing this palace over him, despite the deep voice that had whispered words of devotion only a minute prior. 

Baekhyun has never wanted anything as badly as he wants Chanyeol. If he were asked to give anything up, he would, and it's acutely painful when he realizes that the taller wouldn't do the same. Baekhyun feels as though several layers of protection he'd built up on the way here have melted away, leaving his heart thrumming out in the open, Chanyeol's words making the melody stutter against its own beat. 

Chanyeol never loved him, really -- he had only _wanted_ him. It had all started with lust, drinks, and silk sheets, with an enchanted Baekhyun letting this man taste his lips and bewitch his thoughts. His mind is jumbled, but one thing is clear: he had been a warm body to hold, a lovely distraction, but when it came down to it, Chanyeol would choose his palace over what they'd shared.

"Baekhyun, breathe," Chanyeol's voice is too close, too familiar, and it only makes him feel sicker. "You need to listen to me." 

They're back in Chanyeol's room, but now a lamp is on, orange lighting shining over the prince's cheekbones and settling into the bags under his eyes. He looks bad -- Baekhyun's stomach clenches with worry, and he hates himself for it. 

"Are you hurt?" Chanyeol's voice is so soft, overly concerned, and Baekhyun feels a sob rack through his body again, shoulders shaking against the grip that the taller has on them. He hates the power his voice holds over him, is disgusted that Chanyeol can wreck him so easily and still be this coherent, this collected. "You're all scratched on your cheek. Who hurt you?" 

He's shaking his head and pulling away from the taller's hands altogether, frantically searching for the couch, for a place to sit down that Chanyeol isn't. His brain is in overdrive at the moment, and he doesn't want to keep his proximity to the prince anymore, not when it sends his brain mixed signals, leaving him crying, wanting the taller near and far away at the same time.

"Who hurt you, Baekhyun?" 

He hates hearing his name said like that, hates that his mind twists it to situations that he longs for, situations that he is positive won't happen again -- he hears his name from the taller's lips and thinks of Chanyeol's sleepy morning voice, of the way he calls out to him when their hands meld together in the moonlight. 

"I'm not even hurt," Baekhyun watches Chanyeol's eyes flicker from the cut on his cheek to his eyes, hands twitching in a way that sparks hope inside his chest. He thinks of Chanyeol's earlier words and promptly extinguishes it. "I'm not hurt. Why can't you understand that  _you're_  the one hurting me?" 

Chanyeol sits on the opposite end of the couch, the space between them deafening and awkward in ways they haven't felt in months. He looks seconds away from crumbling, head in hands, and Baekhyun despises himself for wanting to comfort him, to hold him close, to silence his worries with a soft kiss to the forehead. 

"I told you. I only want you," his deep voice is thick, as if it's been stuck in his throat, and Baekhyun registers that he's crying, that he's caused this. His actions, his words, his arrival, it's set off the prince in ways he hasn't seen since he'd been kidnapped, since they'd been wrapped in each other's arms so tightly, terrified to ever let go again. 

Somehow, he feels even worse -- he wants to feel vindicated, wants a sick sense of relief to flood his system, but only despair finds its way into his mind, crushes his chest with its weight. There is no satisfaction in Chanyeol's agony, no refuge from the anger and sadness crashing against the confines of his mind. 

"Then have me," Baekhyun's voice is rushed, hands shaking as if he can't control the feelings rising inside, as if they threaten to rip out of his skin any second. "You want me, so have me. Just tell them no."

"I want to tell them no," he takes a shaky breath, shoulders hunching over, covering himself from Baekhyun's gaze, from the light that dances across the shorter's expression. "It's not a situation that I can refuse that easily. It will take weeks, months to cancel this, to --" 

"It took an afternoon to end us."

Baekhyun balls his fist, focusing on how his nails dig into the palm of his hand instead of the whimpering sounds Chanyeol is making. His mind is a storm and his body is the ocean, rolling and crashing and frothing at the slightest wind, the slightest noise. Out of his control, he thinks, he's out of control. 

"It took an afternoon to exile me, to lock you up. Why should this be any different?" 

"My word is nothing against the king's," Chanyeol's voice is hushed now, as if he can't force it to be any louder. "Baekhyun, I can want you until I die, but unless I am king, we're at his mercy. And I _will_  want you until I die." 

The conviction in his voice sets Baekhyun's mind moving once again, running and tripping over thoughts, scrambling to become coherent. He can't tell if Chanyeol is lying to him and he's falling into a trap, or if the taller is genuine, if all the secrets and memories between them were part of something realer than he'd ever let himself dream of. 

A fresh wave of tears hits him so quickly that he can't respond in time, a sob filling the air between them. Chanyeol looks up, dark eyes meeting his so desperately, fear and something tender present in them. He thinks of the night he'd watched Chanyeol's figure disappear at the bar, the way he'd so confidently approached him, twinkle in his eye and doubt gone. Something inside him had known that if he jumped, Chanyeol would catch. 

Suddenly, he doesn't want to think anymore. There is no energy left in him, not when Chanyeol seems so resolute in avoiding saying no to the king, when all the fire in Chanyeol's eyes is reduced to ash. They're broken -- Chanyeol's eyes are broken, and he needs to try and fix them one last time, needs to bring their flame back to life. He wants to set the distance between them alight, wants to stay in Chanyeol's mind as the only thing that shines brightly against the night sky, the only thing that matters. 

He's crawling across the couch to straddle the taller, sobs echoing between them with each movement. He needs to remind Chanyeol of their first meeting, needs to prove that he's worth fighting for, that he should  _mean_  something to the prince, even if it's not what Baekhyun so ardently longs for. If it keeps him in his arms, if it makes the prince look at him like he's hung the stars, meaning anything is okay. 

"You don't have to love me," Baekhyun chokes out, upper lip shaking just as violently as his hands are. He's pressing his lips against Chanyeol's cheek softly, heart aching at the way the taller tenses up. It hurts, but it's okay. He tells himself this is what Chanyeol wants from him, this is all he's ever meant. 

The younger boy is still under him, shock evident, and Baekhyun grabs for his arms, wrapping them around himself, imagining all the times that Chanyeol had done this before, the moments he'd been annoyed at how much affection he insisted on showering him with. Now, he'd give anything for Chanyeol to do it naturally once again, to pull him closer and let their lips move against each other as if they were born to be connected.

"You don't have to love me, Chanyeol, I promise. You just have to want me. I'm okay with that." 

Baekhyun leans further down to capture the taller's lips, but Chanyeol turns away, leaving him kissing at the corner of his mouth. All he tastes is the salt of his tears, the bitter flavor of rejection and fear choking him. 

"Baekhyun, stop. What are you doing?" Chanyeol pulls his head fully away, hands softly moving to hold the hips straddling him. He looks torn, almost scared, and Baekhyun feels regret rising up his throat, panic numbing his limbs.

"I'm doing what you like," Baekhyun's face crumples. "We're friends, right? We have benefits? That's what we said. This is what I am to you. Remember, please, Chanyeol. Remember how you held me. You don't love me, but you want me, right? Don't let me go, please." 

He rests his head in the crook of Chanyeol's neck, soft kisses naturally falling on his collarbones in an attempt to make the taller respond, to make those familiar arms regain their strength and hold Baekhyun against his chest again. Chanyeol's heart is too fast against his ear, and he feels tears pooling around his cheek, stinging the fresh cut so badly that he cries harder, choked wails of  _please_  syncing with the taller's heartbeat. 

"Baekhyun, stop. I can't when you're sobbing, please," Chanyeol's voice is harsher now, and it makes Baekhyun hiccup against him, shaking his head vehemently. He can't hear any more of this, not when all he wants is for Chanyeol to want him like he says he does, for Chanyeol's lips to capture his and take his breath and make all of this sadness go away. "I can't hurt you. Please breathe." 

"Chanyeol, you want me, you said it," he's undoing the arms wound around his hips, fighting against himself as he scrambles back to his end of the couch, warding off more tears by biting his lip. "Why won't you kiss me? Why do you hate me? You said you'd want me until you die." 

"I  _will_  want you forever," Chanyeol looks frightened to approach him, the tension in the room too thick to wade through. "But you don't have to do that -- I don't want you like that. I don't want to just have sex, Baekhyun. I  _want_  you." 

The room goes silent, completely still. Baekhyun can't breathe, not when Chanyeol is looking at him like that, not when his eyes are watering with every emotion he could possibly process at once. Even the light seems to stop, the orange hues coming to a halt on their march across Chanyeol's face, leaving his eyes completely orange, cheeks an angry red. 

"I love you," he says it like it's a secret, like he's desperate for his next breath of air. "I've loved you for longer than you think. I don't just want to have sex with you. I don't want to be friends. I love you enough that I was scared of every minute without you that night you went missing. The days when you were in Seoul felt like years. I couldn't breathe." 

Baekhyun starts to say something, begins the first stages of disbelief, but he closes his mouth at the look of determination in Chanyeol's eyes. Nothing feels real right now, the warm colors of the room suddenly closing in on him. It's everything he's ever hoped Chanyeol would tell him, and yet, he still feels so empty, so scared.

"I love you enough that I don't want you to have to be in this palace. Being here is nightmares and faked freedom and tears. I want you to be happy, surrounded by your city lights and friends, not stuck in a marble jail cell with an outcast prince. I will always want you, but that doesn't mean I deserve you, Baekhyun." 

The smaller's mind is crying out in doubt and fear and joy all at once, but his body doesn't register it, hands itching to reach toward the taller instead. He can't think of anything besides Chanyeol's eyes and lips and awful excuses. His entire world has shifted into Chanyeol's smile and laughter, all the touches that Baekhyun had disregarded, all the times he'd buried his thoughts in the sound of the waves outside. He gulps, hard, and his mind replays Chanyeol's words over and over again. 

"That's an awful excuse," he says, voice still fearful, still raw. He can't handle the way Chanyeol's eyes waver at his words. "Nothing is a prison if you're there. You know how I feel; I've been so obvious. You know that I would go anywhere if it was with you. I love you too. Stop lying to yourself and to me. Stop letting me leave."

"I love you," Chanyeol repeats, voice louder, the secret finally out. "I  _love_  you."

Baekhyun's crawling back across the couch, but this time Chanyeol is meeting him halfway, his composure snapped completely in half. Their lips are together, warm and needy, and Baekhyun realizes that they're both crouched on their knees, bodies only inches apart. That tiny distance feels like a world, and he gasps when, suddenly, Chanyeol's large hand is at the base of spine, pulling him closer until they're practically one. This kiss is rushed, worried, fearful, and Baekhyun can taste both of their tears and desperation in it, can feel Chanyeol's hands mapping his back with each passing second, as if he's too scared to forget it. He's missed this, missed the way that they fall together in a mesh of teeth and tongue and limbs, missed the way their surroundings fade into nothing.

"If you love me," Baekhyun pants out against his lips, embers glowing in his eyes and lungs, threatening to burn his heart with them. "Fight for me." 

\--

Chanyeol is rifling around somewhere by the time Baekhyun wakes up, dazed. He blinks against the sun that streams in through the curtains, stifles a yawn against his arm, suddenly taking in the scenery and his naked body and the lack of husband next to him. The world is as he'd expected, calm, but everything inside of him is a raging battle, peaceful yet shrinking in fear at the thought of last night being a dream. 

"Chanyeol?" he asks it like a plea, begging the boy to be here, to hold his gaze, to assure him. The boy makes a noise of acknowledgement, and by the time Baekhyun has sat up in bed, he's pacifying him with a tiny kiss to the top of his head, eyes excited. 

"I slipped a note outside," he explains. Baekhyun studies his three-piece suit, the way he's so dressed up, dashing and glowing in this light. His fingers glide through his hair in excitement, head shaking as he smiles. "I asked to go down to breakfast and meet my fiancé. The guards slipped me one back -- I am permitted." 

Baekhyun stills, eyes still focused on the glittering gold of Chanyeol's rings and watch, their wedding band absent. He needs some more explanation, needs to be coddled through this game plan -- so far, he's not understanding, and, truthfully, he's hating the idea of Chanyeol finally being free to go and eat breakfast with this woman, dressed up and charming. 

"You're eating breakfast with her?" Baekhyun's eyes meet Chanyeol's, and he's relieved to see the bit of spark reflected back at him. 

Chanyeol must've sensed the confusion in his voice, the paranoia seeping through his gaze, and he shakes his head immediately, hands coming up to deter Baekhyun from getting any wrong ideas. He sits down next to Baekhyun on the bed, face getting closer until their noses almost brush. 

"I am going to breakfast with her because the king will be there," Chanyeol's voice is hushed, secretive, and it makes Baekhyun's insides flutter. "I can appeal to him. And where I go, my guards go. You will be able to leave this room if you need to. You can go find Minseok, if you want -- just don't get caught." 

Baekhyun's heart is drumming away at their proximity, at the thought of Chanyeol standing up to the king for him, at the prospect of a secret mission. He  _had_  gotten used to the palace and its many halls, but he can't be certain of his ability to abstain from getting caught. It's thrilling, though, and Baekhyun nods, his forehead bumping with Chanyeol's ever so lightly. 

"You should get dressed so that you can leave after I'm gone," Chanyeol advises before swooping in for a small kiss on his lips, tender and holding more meaning than Baekhyun could've anticipated. He's still on the edge of the bed, staring at him, and now Baekhyun is very aware of how naked he is, of how haggard he must look compared to the taller. 

"Are you really doing this?" 

He must sound extremely doubtful -- Chanyeol's eyebrows furrow and his lips purse. It sends a rush of familiarity through the smaller and suddenly he feels like crying again at the thought of being here, of their shared sentiments and rushed kisses. Even if it was blurred by fatigue and stress and the last traces of alcohol from his clubbing, Baekhyun had been convinced in the moment that there would never be another moment that gripped his heart quite like that. 

"I was foolish," Chanyeol's head drops, and his hands move to circle around Baekhyun's good wrist, playing with his fingers gently. "I thought running away would solve things. But last night -- you said you loved me. I can't be stupid, not when your heart is on the line too." 

"What if something happens?" Baekhyun whispers, suddenly regretting all the aggressive hope he'd instilled in the taller, all the words that had illuminated their chests in the night. There's so much that could go wrong, so much for Chanyeol to lose, for Baekhyun to regret. "What if he kicks you out? What if he threatens you? What if they find me?"

"Joohyun told me there's nothing outside of those palace walls for me, and I believed her," his voice drops quietly, whispering once again, though this time it's hushed solemnity. "But then you broke into the palace for me, and I realized that there was -- you were always there for me, waiting. I shouldn't be afraid of anything when it's for you, for us. I'm sorry." 

Baekhyun shakes his head to ward against the sadness and fear that's creeping up and plaguing them. He squeezes Chanyeol's hand gently, watching the light reflect against the prince's radiant gold skin one last time. "Don't apologize. I'll get dressed, okay?" 

Baekhyun tries to look inconspicuous by wearing black slacks and one of Chanyeol's smallest white dress shirts, hoping to blend into some of the staff despite the cut on his cheek and well-known face. He's tucking in the shirt, hands sweaty, when Chanyeol puts a warm hand on his shoulder and pushes him back toward their bathroom, out of view from the doorway. 

"I love you," he whispers, lips ghosting over Baekhyun's. He shivers and nods in response, heart picking up its pace at the thought of what Chanyeol will do, of what the king will say in return. 

Baekhyun tries not to breathe while Chanyeol greets his guards (which are not the same as the night guards, the ones who'd been confronted by Minseok hours before, Baekhyun realizes with a breath of relief) and sidesteps out the door. Then Baekhyun is alone, chest heaving, hands shaking. It's over -- he hadn't been noticed and he's fully dressed. He can leave in a few minutes, can search for Minseok and his guidance, can relax his mind for a brief moment. 

\-- 

Chanyeol's eyes shift to the woman next to him, to her wide eyes and long hair and pouty lips. He'd met her before, of course, but he hadn't really looked at her, too distressed with all that was happening around him, with the disappearance of his husband. She's pretty, he muses, but he can tell that she is not interested in this marriage either, that her mind is wandering, blank expression taking over her face. She's not angry or embarrassed or worried like Baekhyun had been, but instead, emotionless. It's almost as if she'd expected this to happen and was just dealing with the consequences pitifully. He feels guilty for her situation, even if there was no fault on his part. 

"It's good to see you've decided to join us for breakfast," his voice is deep and condescending. Chanyeol wonders if the king takes pleasure in mocking him, in saying such things when he's been locked up for days. "You have barely seen your fiancé at all. For a soon to be princess, that cannot be very fun to endure. Right, Chaeyoung?" 

She nods, eyes downcast, and Chanyeol watches her drag a strawberry across her entire plate, eyes transfixed, like a cat chasing a mouse. She's bored and unhappy, and he's terrified and jittery -- a good combination, his mind jokes, even as he chides himself for getting distracted in this uncomfortable situation.

Chanyeol decides that he needs to end this quickly -- he can't drag it out, not when he knows Baekhyun is desperately trying to find Minseok in the walls of the palace, when he's aware of just how little time he'll have to speak once the king realizes what exactly he's on about. 

"Actually, about that matter," Chanyeol coughs, setting down his chopsticks down quietly. Chaeyoung's glitter-lidded eyes follow it, and he can actually feel her noticing that he hadn't actually touched his food yet. "I need to speak you to about this engagement, your highness." 

"What of it?" his voice has already turned gruff, and Chanyeol pictures Baekhyun's radiant smile and soft lips, pictures Chaeyoung leaving happily, relieved of her duties as an obligated daughter. He  _needs_  to do this, for more than just himself. 

"I do not want it, your highness," Chanyeol feels his voice quivering, but he swallows before continuing. "I would like it to be called off. I only love Byun Baekhyun, and, to me, our marriage is not annulled. There is no reason for me to have anyone other than him as my partner." 

Chaeyoung's eyes are burning into him, almost looking through him. He can picture them going wide and hopeful, can see her put down her chopsticks from his peripheral vision. Baekhyun's voice is in the back of his mind, crying and pleading, voice so broken at the thought of being torn apart, lips chapped and salty and desperate. It spurs him on. 

"I know you disapprove because he did not adhere to the conduct you expected and he hit someone in front of multiple officials," at this, Chaeyoung startles, obviously unaware of the history of Chanyeol's previous engagement. "But framing me as a cheater and abuser, sending him home with no warning, seperating us for no reason other than your own pride -- no good will come of it. It will not win you my favor or gratefulness. It will not make me give her my heart." 

Chaeyoung is so silent, so still next to him, but her breathing is heavy. He can feel her anxiety rolling off in waves, colliding with him and clouding his mind with doubt and fear. 

"This insolent speech means nothing to me," the king stands, voice deeper than Chanyeol's ever heard it, clearly offended, clearly angered by each syllable he'd uttered. "I will not address it. You will learn to keep your mouth shut." 

Chanyeol's heart leaps, and he swallows the lump forming in his throat, wills away the nerves that have engulfed him so quickly. He's almost too scared to continue on with his speech, but then he sees familiar eyes peeking in from a window behind the king, soft brown hair and white shirt so electrifying that Chanyeol stands up as if on cue. Seeing Baekhyun there, fearful eyes watching everything, gives him a burst of energy, of confidence, and suddenly he's ignoring the blood rushing to his ears and twenty-three years of fear instilled in him. 

"If you will give me no other option," Chanyeol straightens up, hoping that all the adrenaline streaming through his veins will make up for the weight of what he is about to say. "I hereby renounce my royal title." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHANYEOL???? CHANYEOL!!!!!!! ldjklfsjlfjfkjldlkjfsldfs
> 
> hope you guys like the update??? feedback is ALWAYS appreciated! sorry for breaking your hearts these last few chapters. hopefully this one revived you! (p.s. i lov chaeyoung aka rosé from bp. don't misunderstand dskfjdskf she's an angel and her and pcy did a collab thing so....here she is!)
> 
> love you all! goodnight angels <3
> 
> twitter: baekyalls  
> aff: baekyall  
> curiouscat: curiouscat.me/baekyall


	12. twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3

The room is completely still. Chaeyoung's breathing is quiet yet erratic, and Chanyeol knows that he's crossed a line he won't ever be able to tread across again. The act of saying something like that so rashly, so angrily, it will leave a sour taste in the king's mouth for years. It will make Chanyeol even more unfavorable in his eyes -- it will make him a target, as if he the bounty placed on his happiness wasn't enough. 

"Once again, I will ignore your ridiculous request. Do not test me a third time." 

“My siblings both left the palace,” Chanyeol’s voice is cracking, tender and raw and scared, eyes flitting between the king’s angry glare and Baekhyun’s shaking lips. He wonders if the woman next to him has noticed the visitor lurking outside of the dining hall, has figured out who his heart belongs to, truly. “They both found someone who made them happy outside of it. They were allowed to leave.” 

It's painfully clear that his new fiancé didn't know this about him. She turns from her seat at the words, eyes blown wide and staring at him in disbelief, and Chanyeol wonders if she'd even known whom she was on her way to meet, to marry, when she'd first come. It makes him angry to think of how forced this is, to think of the way she is shaking right now, to think of patching his heart over with someone new like the king so wants. The goal of Chaeyoung marrying him is to cover the crinkle of Baekhyun's soft eyes, to stop the peaceful song that he threads through Chanyeol's mind when it gets hard to focus on reality. He doesn't want it. He wants Baekhyun, wants to send Chaeyoung home, wants to breathe again. 

“Your brother and sister did not have the same _mothe_ r as you,” he spits out the word as if its dirty, and it stabs at Chanyeol in ways that makes his skin prickle. “I had no fear that they would turn a revolt against me. I do not know what you will do if you are not in the palace. Your heart is weak and your mind is weaker -- corruption is easy.” 

Chanyeol is painfully aware of how deep this insult cuts him, at the way the pain spreads to the tips of his fingers. There was no memory of his mother that hadn't been clouded by fear and distrust, by the way everyone stilled at her name like it was forbidden to be spoken. For so long, Chanyeol had feared that she had cursed her only child to a life of isolation, even among hundreds of people in the palace -- he'd feared that his being born was an unfortunate side effect of her existence, and that he would spent eternity apologizing for it.

He had always felt this very same pain when the king looked at him, always sensed the resentment settled in his eyes. He supposes that maybe, to his family, Sehun wasn't in the wrong, after all. In the eyes of the king and the law -- maybe Chanyeol had deserved a punishment, a scare. He had gotten too happy, too comfortable in his own skin, too embroiled in Baekhyun's affection, and it was his cousin's duty to drag him down again, to bring him to the depths that the king wanted. 

He drags his eyes away from the king’s shaking hands to watch Baekhyun’s face turn hard, stiff, angry at the cruel words being thrown toward him. The man's concern jabs him like a thousand knifes, and he wants to cry, wants to feel those hands steadying him, wants to be comfortable and protected in his embrace again. He longs to be anywhere but here, but the thought of his mom's shaky hands painting him on her canvases, of her tiny house in the mountains where all that mattered was her garden and her young son, he stands firm.  

“I’m not _corrupted!_ My mother  wasn’t either,” he’s losing his grip on formality, and he feels Chaeyoung’s eyes burning into him with the power of a thousand suns. He shouldn't talk to the king like this, shouldn't let his eyes convey such fire, shouldn't defend someone that the government labeled a traitor. “She loved my father and she loved me. She got sick. She didn't  _do_ anything. Don’t talk about her.” 

“There is something evil that flows in your veins. The imprint of rebellion is still on you from your uncle. You still view yourself as above the law, above _my word_.” 

Chaeyoung’s hand trails out, latching onto the hem of Chanyeol’s shirt, so soft and timid. He turns to meet her eyes, reading the words conveyed in them as if they were written in front of him: _Stop._

He probably should, honestly. He probably should resign himself to faking love to this woman, to holding her delicate hand and brushing long hair behind her ears. He could probably even convince himself that he loved her, if he tried hard enough, if he forced himself to forget what sunshine felt like against his skin, if he blocked out all memories of kissing like air and moving like water. But Baekhyun’s stare had never left him, eyes intense and fierce, hands rough against the door handle. There was nothing waiting for him in Chaeyoung’s round eyes, nothing burning under his skin that left him breathless when she reached out for him, nothing that compared to the thrill Baekhyun's every movement instilled in him. 

“I do not view myself as above you,” he restrains the anger, reigns in his shaky breathing, and feels Chaeyoung’s hand go slack, leaving him to fight alone. It's for the better, he knows. “I have never protested your words before. I spent years locked away, alone, and I spent years in France learning how to be friends with loneliness. I let you do that to me, and I took it, in order to pay for my uncle’s sins. But I cannot give up my happiness, not again.” 

At this, the king stands, too. He's not as tall as the prince, but he has an aura of superiority. There's a fear of this man and his demands that has been so readily instilled in Chanyeol, that makes him break out in a sweat and resist stumbling back a few feet. He can't run, not with Chaeyoung's confused eyes watching their exchange, not with Baekhyun's anxiety sizzling through the door and into his chest, burying itself among the bravery Chanyeol had already exerted. 

He balls his fists as the man takes a step toward him, eyes cruel and dark and engulfing. Chanyeol doesn't think he can look away if he tried, but he's not trying, not when his height and eye contact is the only intimidation factor he has left. There's a steady bead of sweat trailing down the back of his dress shirt now, and he focuses on how itchy it makes him feel rather than the intensity of the king's eyes on him, at the way the older man is drawing closer with a look of such hatred resting in the lines of his face. 

"Happiness is not guaranteed in the palace. You are a prince, and this is your nation. You are either loyal to the throne, or you are a traitor. Do not let happiness make you a traitor." 

He lets out a breath, one that empties him, one that leaves his chest hollow and heart devoid of light. He worries that Baekhyun had heard what the king had said, that the smaller noticed the defeat creeping across his face for the smallest of seconds.

He's scared. He's so scared. He wants Baekhyun but, god, he can't be a traitor. He can't be what they'd made him out to be -- he can't let his mother be remembered as the mother of a traitor, as the sister of a rebel leader, as a disgrace in the royal family. He chokes on nothing, feeling faint and sick and too hot. There's warmth creeping through his limbs and chest, fiery and suffocating. He can't breathe. 

"I am not a traitor," Chanyeol's voice is less firm, and it comes out in gargles, as if he's speaking from underwater, as if he's gasping for any air he can. "I want to be happy. That does not make me a traitor. I am not a traitor." 

He wonders if he's saying it to the king or himself, if he's attempting to rewire the part of his mind that had made him feel so scared, the one that haunted his thoughts, the one that made him use charm in front of officials, made him cover up his inferiority with pointed comments and forced laughter.  It'd been that part of his brain that painted fake smiles and business talk over the canvas of fear and loneliness and anxiety, the one that made him a liar and lead Baekhyun to be so wary of him when they were in public. He should've been honest about his family, about the layers he'd cover himself in, about the way he'd felt that first night he'd laid eyes on Baekhyun. There was too much clouding him now, and his mind is gone, completely haywire with fear and a rumbling anger. 

"Simply telling me that you are not a traitor does not absolve you of what you've done and said today," the king turns to Chaeyoung, and Chanyeol's throat closes. "Your husband will see you later. He needs to leave now. I am tired of this." 

It's as if a flood gate had been opened, and suddenly there's men everywhere, hands on Chanyeol's shoulders and on Chaeyoung's chair, pushing and pulling and sending them flying apart, sending Chanyeol into the arms of a large guard. He panics, eyes searching for familiar eyes through the glass of the dining hall door. Baekhyun's practically screaming on the other side, hands flying toward the door knob, and a new type of desperation claws its way into Chanyeol's throat. 

He shakes his head violently, begging Baekhyun to leave the door alone, to take his hand off of it and not get involved, to stay out of this room and the king's sight. The man with a hold on him is squeezing his arm, hard, and Chanyeol lets out a scared whimper. Chaeyoung is angry -- she is yelling at the guards, squirming away from being touched, refusing to rise from her seat. Chanyeol's mind flashes red as he watches them drag the girl from where she is seated, and the sickening revelation that  _he'd_  done that hits him so suddenly that he feels lightheaded. 

He's made a mess, and it hadn't helped, and Baekhyun is still hovering near the door, eyes wide and filling with tears. He's too close, Chanyeol realizes, and he feels dread seeping into his body, making his limbs heavy. He knows Baekhyun will be seen and dragged away. They will be pulled apart again, and Chanyeol can't bear to think about these men having a grip on him, rough and unforgiving and merciless by order of the king. 

"I hadn't even made the call yet. Thank you for your promptness," the king smiles at one of the guards fondly, a gentle hand resting on his wide shoulder. Chanyeol hates the twist in his gut that makes him wish he'd received that treatment from the man even once in his life, a pitiful hope that he wants to eradicate from his mind.

Even in the chaos of Chaeyoung shouting and the guards scrambling to grab onto the tall prince, he watches in horror as Baekhyun twists the handle and mouths his love's name, face crumpling and body caving in on himself.  _Chanyeol ,_ he mouths fitfully, barely stepping into the room, quiet as a mouse to everyone except the taller. He's booming to the prince, loud and clear, voice ringing through his head as if their thoughts had melded together.  _Chanyeol , please, Chanyeol_. 

He can't think of a sight that hurts more than this, can't picture a moment that will haunt him more. Baekhyun's clawing toward him, steps small in this big room, and it feels as though each step is a mile. He's too far, too close, and Chanyeol wants him to run. He needs to look for Minseok. He needs to leave this room before they're on him, before he can't do anything but watch as the smaller is pinned down on the floor. He's a trespasser on royal grounds, and Chanyeol feels sick at the thought of what that might entail for the shorter.

 _Baekhyun_ , he's pushing against the man holding onto him, hoping that no one can make out these words except the smaller. He needs him to be safe, to find a way to leave -- Chanyeol will follow, somehow.  _Baekhyun , go. Find Minseok._

Baekhyun stops in his tracks, still so close to the doorway, still unnoticed, and Chanyeol nods as hard as he can, pushing back against the guard once again. It's violent and jumbled, but he knows what his next words need to be, what will convince the smaller to leave this chaos behind, and so he musters up all his strength and pushes the guard completely off of him, arms covering himself defensively.  _Go. I love you._

Chaeyoung's finally stopped yelling, and when Chanyeol looks to his left, she's gone. It's just him and the guards and the king, Baekhyun's tiny figure closer to the door once again, face red with sobs that are being held in. He can't look at the smaller directly, not when the ruckus has quieted down and he's noticable. Baekhyun steps out, back into the hall, and Chanyeol feels his muscles go slack against the guard, tired breaths mingling with the mumbles among the men. 

Though his body has given up momentarily, the prince's mind is on high-alert, ears flooded with the sound of his own heartbeat as he searches for Baekhyun in the hall. He's there, tracks of tears evident even from this distance, and he mouths a simple _I love you_  before he's turning and sprinting away. Chanyeol truly relaxes for the first time in an hour, deflating as suddenly as he'd stood up for himself, legs jelly at the thought of what would've happened if Baekhyun had been seen, at the thought of what will happen if the boy is caught in the halls.

"Take him back to his room," the king sounds resigned, tired, and Chanyeol wants to laugh, despite the ache in his heart and bones and head. The  _king_  was tired? "He needs to learn to take orders. There is no room for misbehavior or treachery in these palace walls."

"I renounced my title," Chanyeol's gasping out. "I don't want it. I'm not a traitor -- I just want to be happy. I don't want to be locked up again, not when he makes me happy, makes me feel like I'm actually living." 

The guards don't stop their march toward the door Baekhyun had just disappeared from, refuse to slow down despite Chanyeol's feet dragging and kicking with each meter they cross. He feels like a child, begging, but it's okay -- he never got the chance to be a child. He'd never thrown tantrums, not when he'd been forced to grow up all too quickly, when he'd lost the two most precious people in his life in the first decade. Maybe he'd been boiling inside for years, and maybe this was the point when it got dangerous, when he let his anger overtake him, voice hoarse and eyes wet. 

Maybe he'd have done this in Paris if he had anyone to talk to, anyone to lash out at. Maybe he would've taken it out on Sehun if he hadn't held himself back so many times in the past years. Maybe he'd have taken it out on Baekhyun if those eyes weren't so enchanting, if he hadn't felt enamored the moment they'd met. Maybe he'd have taken it out on himself if there wasn't an angel waiting for him somewhere in this world, if there wasn't a fear of letting down the few people he'd ever loved. Maybe he'd never have done anything -- he doesn't know himself well enough to decide.

"I am not a prince! I told you! I renounce my title! Let me go!" 

He's screaming, and he hopes that someone else hears. He hopes for Jongin's large frame to barrel into the room, angrily ripping hands off of him. He wants Joohyun's voice to raise and defend him, for her tiny hands to place themselves between him and the guards. He longs for his father to be here, to stand up for him at least once in his life. He dreads fighting alone, fears the drop in his stomach at the tiny chuckle the king lets out. 

"You are saying this in haste," he shakes his head, and motions for the guards to leave once again. "For royalty, the palace is their entire life. You need to learn that and make up for what your family has done. Do not add fuel to the fire. There is no room to slack, Prince Chanyeol." 

And then they're dragging him out, violent and strong and too quiet. Chanyeol's mind fills with worry for Baekhyun, for their future, for the turmoil that he's positive is filling the pair to their brim. 

\--

Baekhyun's ripping each door open, voice loud and hoarse as he calls out for any cousin he can find. He doesn't care anymore. The guards can catch him, he thinks bitterly -- nothing matters right now except finding someone else on his side, of getting his prince back in his arms, safe and calm. 

"Minseok!" Baekhyun is screaming. He knows that he's not in Chanyeol's wing anymore, knows that the lilac walls on this side of the palace are confusing and new to him. "Jongin! Kyungsoo! Joohyun!" 

There's no response, and he rounds the corner into another, wider, hallway. It's filled with specks of dark gray marble and gold and silver, all tied together with a runner that boasts gold and purple flowers, deep violets twisting against pale ivory, stark contrasts and dramatic flare evident. It is nothing like Chanyeol's easygoing baby blue or the palace's summery orange walls and white marble. 

It strikes an uncomfortable familiarity in him, and suddenly he's filled with a sinking feeling -- this is not the wing he should be in. He needs to leave, needs to find a hall that is deep green, one filled with pastel paintings, one that rings with Jongdae's laugh, one that reeks of flowers and perfume and champagne. Any other place, any other person, any other situation -- he needs to leave, he tells himself frantically. 

He spins in place and starts to turn the corner once again, heading back toward any other place in the palace, when he's met with a sturdy chest in his face. There was someone waiting behind him, he realizes belatedly, and he hadn't heard them approach over the sound of his own panicked breathing. From his angle against the chest, he can recognize a sharp, pale jawline, and he stumbles back, heart beating so tempestuously that he feels the room pulsing along with it.

"Why are you here? What's wrong?" Sehun's voice is silky sweet, and Baekhyun chokes on the fake affection infusing the air. "Don't cry. You look so pretty when you cry, but it's sad." 

"Don't come near me." 

"Why are you so agitated? You came to  _my_  wing. I should be the one who's defensive." 

Baekhyun wants to yell at him, scream, curse him out -- but he knows that he doesn't have time, that somewhere in the palace, Chanyeol is being dragged along, that there's only a few minutes until his prince is locked away again, this time probably for good. He can't spend his time fighting Sehun's knowing face, his smug smile, his condescending gaze. 

Instead, Baekhyun braces his good hand and throws himself into a punch, landing it squarely on Sehun's cheek. The taller yelps and grabs for his face, stumbling back a few feet, angered. Baekhyun likes the adrenaline rush he feels, savors the shock and fear clouding Sehun's ever-confident eyes. He wants to do it again, wants to make him bleed, wants to get payback for years of pain that he'd caused Chanyeol, but he doesn't have time, not right now, not when the balance in the palace is slipping so rapidly from his fingers.  

"Fuck you," he spits it out, literally, watching Sehun's pained expression turn to one of disgust as he feels the wet on his cheek, eyes flaming. Baekhyun likes how red he looks like this when he's furious, when he clashes with the purple walls, looking out of place among the grandeur. He looks pathetic. 

Then the smaller is gone from the hallway and the taller boy's vision, sprinting as though his life depends on it, head spinning and hand tingling. He feels a little more free, and it's only when he bounds around a corner and into a corridor painted dove gray, photographs of attractions around the world showcased on each centimeter available, does he realize that he's found what he needs. This isn't Minseok's wing, he can feel that it isn't, but he recognizes the airy photographs and serious undertones easily. 

"Junmyeon!" Baekhyun's voice is so loud, so desperate, and he's running toward the large door at the end of the hall with all his might. There's a guard in the middle of the hall, but Baekhyun ignores him -- it doesn't matter if he's caught, as long as he can tell the older what's happening, as long as he can assure that Chanyeol is safe. He trusts Junmyeon, trusts his kind eyes and his high position, as he's the only prince among the cousins that has a true chance of ruling one day, the only one who might have real sway with the current king. 

"Junmyeon!" he bangs on the door feverishly, registering how raw his voice sounds, how wet his cheeks are. He'd been sobbing and screaming for the last ten minutes, and his chest heaves violently as he catches his breath against the large white door. He can hear the guard making his way over, and he panics, voice raising an octave. "It's Baekhyun! I need you! Chanyeol is in trouble! Please, Prince Junmyeon!"

There's a hand grabbing his shoulder, sudden and strong, and Baekhyun flinches against it. He's caught, and Junmyeon is either gone or ignoring him altogether -- he wants to sob, wants to fight the hand off and find Minseok, but he's so  _tired_. 

"He is with me," the commanding voice is only vaguely familiar, as if he'd only met the person once or twice, but he recognizes it immediately -- the crown prince himself. "Hands off." 

Junmyeon is at the end of the hall, suit pressed and perfect, face exasperated. He looks tired, exhausted, but he spares a tiny smile to Baekhyun and a lingering glare to the guard's hold on the smaller. At the eye contact, the man's hand draws back quickly, bowing immediately, muttering apologies that go unanswered by the prince. His aura is too powerful, and Baekhyun finds himself staring at a picture of Italy to distract from the sudden dominance that Junmyeon had exerted. He wonders if he should've even come here, if Junmyeon was a good choice to save his husband -- being next in the line of succession might've made him more loyal to the king than anyone, Baekhyun realizes, gulping his anxiety down in a shaky breath.

"Come inside," Junmyeon gestures to the door, one last lingering look sent to the guard. 

This prince is frightening, Baekhyun decides, but it is only because he is so sure of his power, of his position. He makes Baekhyun feel small -- but maybe that's what a prince should do, after all.

He bows to the older, flushing when he brushes the formality away with the palm of his hand to the air, a stilted shrug forming on his stiff shoulders. "Please, don't." 

They walk into Junmyeon's large room (much larger than Chanyeol's, Baekhyun notes with slight wonder) and he watches in silence as the taller takes off his outer coat and sets down some files on the desk. He's taking his time, quietly contemplating something, and Baekhyun is too frightened to break this silence, even as pleas of  _save Chanyeol, he's hurt and crying and alone_ claw their way at his throat and chest.

"Minseok will be here soon," Junmyeon nods toward the door, as if indicating that he should arrive any second, as if this entire day was premeditated and scheduled down to the minute. "As far as I know, the guards that intruded at breakfast went well. I do not think the king noticed anything was awry." 

Awry? Guards at breakfast? Had Junmyeon already heard of it, already planned around it? He feels the room spinning, but he stares at the leather couch near him, at the way soft red blankets contrast the texture to stay grounded. Everything feels surreal, and suddenly he doesn't know if Junmyeon is good or bad, if Minseok likes him or wants Chanyeol to suffer tenfold. It's all too much, and he wants answers, now.

"Excuse me?" 

"The guards at breakfast. Minseok sent them, of course," Junmyeon purses his lips at the files in front of him, tilting his head to the side. He's too collected, too calm, and it sends Baekhyun's nerves into overdrive once again. "He heard that your prince would be attending breakfast with his newest fiancé, and he assumed that the king would disagree with whatever he pleaded for. It is much easier to send our own guards than rescue Chanyeol from the king later." 

"You both got him out of there?" his hands tingle, relief dancing through his lungs, the thought of Chanyeol's panic earlier only a faint, burning reminder of the pain that had scorched his chest minutes before. Hearing that the younger was okay was all he needed -- the news cools him down, pours water over the sweltering remnants of his peace of mind. "He is with Prince Minseok? He is safe?" 

"Chanyeol has always been like our little brother," he moves forward to grab a seal off his desk, leaving his approval on whatever piece of writing is in front of him. "We want him to be happy, of course. You were a breath of fresh air for the palace and, more importantly, him." 

Baekhyun feels a wave of peace sweep over him, so sudden that he thinks he must be dreaming it. The last time he'd felt this calm was the night before, when Chanyeol's hands had held him so close, when there was nothing on his mind besides the soft sound of their breathing against each other. _He is safe_ , Baekhyun tells himself, chanting it like a prayer.  _He is safe_.

"Thank you, prince Junmyeon," Baekhyun knows that his eyes are misty, but there's no shame, not when the prince looks back at him calmly, always collected, a tiny smile on the corner of his lips. "You and Prince Minseok both -- I owe you the world." 

"You owe me nothing. He has suffered enough for things he cannot control. His heart is another thing he can't control, and we couldn't watch him get punished for that, too." 

The door is pushed open, and suddenly everything else melts away besides Chanyeol's beaming smile and relieved voice and long arms wrapping around him. It's warm, to be back in his embrace, and Baekhyun lets himself breathe in his scent deeply, lets the taller bury his head in his neck, both staying completely silent. It's too precious to speak, and Baekhyun flushes bright red when Chanyeol leans in further to leave a tiny kiss on his lips, a kept promise of returning unfolding between the both of them. There's a lot of things unsaid swimming in their eyes, but Baekhyun thinks he understands at least a few of them, thinks he smiles away some of the darker ones, thinks he waters the happier ones and watches them bloom in Chanyeol's eyes.

"Thank you for running," Chanyeol's so quiet against his neck, and Baekhyun knows it's because of the older princes' presence in the room. He's embarrassed, but he's always, always fond, and Baekhyun nods, pecking Chanyeol's chin softly. "I didn't think you would. Thank you for being safe."

Baekhyun doesn't want to ruin this, doesn't want to mar the way the air in the room is so calm right now, but he's suddenly hit with a realization, fear creeping up on him slowly, dreadfully. 

"Sehun knows I'm here," Baekhyun reveals suddenly. He can't believe he forgot, can't believe he didn't think about what the taller will do with this information -- of course, this serenity won't last; it never does, not for long. "That means the king will know soon." 

Chanyeol shakes his head, resolute, and threads their fingers together methodically, eyes soft, teeming with confidence. Maybe it had been scared into him, when he'd finally stood up to the king, when he'd watched Baekhyun sprinting away as if he'd never see him again. There is a new air to Chanyeol, one that doesn't need to hide that he is happy or sad or confident or scared. He is just _Chanyeol_  and it makes Baekhyun's heart constrict before the taller has even spoken, already believing anything that he will tell him. 

"It doesn't matter if the king knows," Chanyeol's voice is deep and careful, articulating everything as well as he can. "I am not a traitor. I know this. I am renouncing my title."

"Of course you're not a traitor," Baekhyun soothes, hand moving to trace his cheekbone, soft and delicate and clenched in stress. "I didn't want to make you give up your title -- I just want us to be happy." 

Chanyeol nods against the hand cupping his face, and he leaves a small kiss on Baekhyun's thumb, right over one of his moles. 

"If I cannot be happy here, I don't want the title. We are going to be happy because we are going to leave. We are going to be happy because we have each other," he smiles, so genuine, and Baekhyun's heart rips itself to shreds. 

"I am going to clear my mother's name. And, when I do that, we can come back -- I am a prince, but I will not represent a family that hates me, not when you are worth so much more. I will only be a prince when this palace deserves me."

Baekhyun lets himself smile at that, radiant, and meets plush lips with his own, knowing that even if their lives are in shambles right now, they have each other to piece it back together.  _My prince_ , Baekhyun smiles against his lips,  _everything will work out._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh. i updated! oops! wasn't really planning on that. i sat down to plan out the chapter in between chores and.......here we are sldkjfdsljflj
> 
> (also psa it wasn't supposed to be angsty for that long,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,sorryskfjsdkfdkfjd)
> 
> hope you liked it!!!!!!!!!!!! big scream!!!!!!!! i love you all pls leave feedback bye bye <3
> 
> aff: baekyall  
> twitter: baekyalls  
> other: curiouscat.me/baekyall


	13. thirteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the wait angels! <3

Baekhyun doesn't register pulling away from Chanyeol, only the lack of warmth on his lips and cheeks, the emptiness that is left as the prince paces past him in a hurry. It's as if the taller has suddenly realized the urgency of these matters and forced himself to retract unsteady hands from the smaller, to address the anxiety clouding the air. 

"We need to leave," Chanyeol's voice is directed at his cousins, urgent and hushed. "Thank you both, really, thank you. We have to go before something happens." 

Baekhyun is well aware that  _something_  translates to being found by Sehun or the king, but he suppresses the panic that trickles past his throat and sets his stomach boiling. He's trying to focus on Chanyeol's words, on his actions, on the way they'd melted together in relief the second they'd seen each other. That was all they needed, he's sure. 

Watching the taller's posture stiffen as he approaches his cousins, Baekhyun understands that nothing could break his resolve now, not when they've gotten this far, when they're so close to loving in peace. His walls are high, and Baekhyun wants to climb them, to soothe the tension drenching his shoulders, to quiet the panicked alarms ringing through his mind.

"Where will you go?" Minseok asks, hesitant. Baekhyun's heart trips at the question, and he watches as Chanyeol's confident eyes betray him, a twinge of fear tainting his composure, like a chip in the armor he's so diligently been wearing these days. 

They need to get out of the palace before guards find their way to Junmyeon's chambers, Baekhyun knows -- but he also knows that deep down, whether the prince wants to admit it or not, Chanyeol is terrified to leave this palace, to be out of the only stable home he's ever known. There are options out there for them, but all seem far away, distant and blurry, nothing like the clear waves of chaos that keep them afloat in this palace.

"I'm not sure yet," his voice is muted, and his shoulders sag. The tension built up inside deflates outwardly, and Baekhyun thinks that there must be a new crack forming in his heart at the sight. "I just know we need to leave. I can't let anything more happen, not today." 

It's painfully obvious that the events this morning had been a breaking point for the taller, and Baekhyun longs to reach out and comfort him, but he can't -- not when Minseok's arms are wrapping around him first, small hands patting gently on Chanyeol's wide shoulders. The pair shuffle together almost awkwardly, and Baekhyun wonders if this is the first time they'd hugged since they were children, if ever. 

"Take care of yourself," he says it to the both of them, eyes meeting Baekhyun's over the tallest boy's shoulders. Chanyeol has curled in on himself, looking impossibly small for a man his size, hands resting on his cousin's back. Forehead resting against the older's shoulder, he sighs out a shaky breath at the words. "Take care of each other." 

Junmyeon's hand is on Baekhyun's wrist, warm and foreign and a little hesitant. When their gazes meet, the same sentiments are transmitted to him: a wish of warmth, safety, and health conveyed by only the quirk of the crown prince's lips. Baekhyun appreciates the hand that holds him steady, and he wraps his own around the wrist gripping him, only hoping that his thank you's will be conveyed properly. Then Chanyeol's making his way back toward them, eyes backlit with warmth. 

"I'll take care of him, of course," the tallest is in Junmyeon's arms now, their holds on each other slightly less confident, but just as warm, as comforting. "I owe you both so much." 

"Be safe, for us. Don't let your husband get hurt anymore, okay?"

It's overwhelming. All those months ago, Baekhyun had been so terrified to let himself be trapped in the palace walls, to let himself grow pliant against Chanyeol's sturdy hands. Friends -- they'd promised to be friends, and Baekhyun had convinced himself that each day in his newfound life was a new adventure to conquer. To him, Chanyeol was the tall, goofy sidekick who made his heart soar even when he wasn't supposed to.

Now, it feels like a real escapade, one that could end dangerously, one that could leave Baekhyun's world crumbling. They're running from Chanyeol's title, from the bounty on Baekhyun's head, from the way that being seperated aches so ardently. 

_Don't let your husband get hurt anymore, okay?_

"I'll always protect him, just like you've protected me. Always." 

\-- 

As they'd fled the palace, assisted by Junmyeon and Minseok's men, there was a sparkling moment of recognition between Chanyeol and Joohyun, an exchange of intense gazes in the halls. Her tiny lips had molded a polite smile, and Baekhyun instantly recognized the regret swimming in her eyes, the way her hands shook at seeing the pair together. 

Nothing was said, but Joohyun had tiptoed to leave a tiny peck on the prince's cheek, hand gripping his shoulder so tightly that Baekhyun is sure it must've hurt. Her hands slid to his breast pocket, dropping a wad of paper in, and then she was gone, indigo skirts trailing after her, the scent of roses fading with each step.

And then they were gone as well -- two men hurriedly exiting, shaky hands grabbing only what they could, avoiding the eyes of everyone they pass. Too much to feel, too little time to understand anything properly, and they grasp onto each other to stay composed, a silent promise settling in between their connected palms.

Only now, when they're alone in this hotel room, does Chanyeol retract the pieces of paper from where they've been stuffed all day. He sits up to read whatever information the papers contain, body shifting into a sitting position next to the smaller. From here, his shoulders are wide, his face soft and worried. Baekhyun aches. 

As his eyes trail over the paper, his shoulders indicate a defeat that he was too proud to show in front of his cousins, one that he wanted to save for a moment when the only person with him was Baekhyun. It numbs the tips of the shorter's fingers, makes the air feel thick as he struggles to gulp it down -- he is the only one who sees these weaknesses, and he wants to protect every inch of the taller, if possible.

"Oh," Chanyeol's voice is deep, disappointed, and Baekhyun watches the shimmer of tears forming in the inner corners of his eyes. "I wish I had said something to her earlier. I wish I had hugged her."

Baekhyun sits up, letting a hand rest on Chanyeol's elbow, a gentle attempt at calming him. 

"She knows everything you wanted to tell her. You're translucent when it comes to emotions, and she knows how to read you. She knows it all, don't worry." 

"You can read it," Chanyeol's leaning into his touch, using his height advantage to push them back into the bed. "I want you to read it. So you know what she thinks of you." 

The taller rests his head on Baekhyun's chest, breathing in softly, letting Baekhyun's hands take the wad of paper -- which he now realizes is a letter. The writing is tiny and curved on the edges, just as soft as he would've guessed Joohyun's words to be. He settles in to read it, heart rate slowing at the way Chanyeol leans into him so comfortably, at the way the younger goes soft against the fingers twirling his hair. 

_My dearest Chanyeol, _

_I am utterly sorry. My guards have informed me that Baekhyun has been spotted in the palace. Sehun knows this, and I fear he has already told the king. I have also gotten word of the renunciation of your title. I hope this letter will reach you in a happier, safer time than the present. I hope you are as enamored with him as you have always been._

_That night, everything I said was incorrect -- I simply did not want you to be hurt. I thought that by speaking ill of Baekhyun and convincing you that you did not need him to live, you would calm down. I hadn't seen you look that hollow since the night you told me you were being sent to Paris. Your hadn't cried like that since your mother passed. It scared me. I was too young to help you deal with your first loss, and I was too scared to watch you break all over again. _

_I hope you understand that I adore Baekhyun. He is the brightness in your life, I know. For as long as we have grown up side by side, I have never watched you sparkle so brightly. I did not know one person could have that much power over another, and I was amazed at the way you two reflected such adoration. He makes the palace lighter, makes it easier to breathe among all of the officials and strict rules. _

_When he danced with me at the ball, he was so inexperienced and nervous -- but he talked of you like you were all that mattered and he tried his best to follow my steps. I will never forget the way he says your name, the way his laughter made me smile, the way you froze without him beside you. I will never forget the peace he radiates._

_I adore Baekhyun, and he obviously adores you, so I wish that the both of you will be happy for as many years as you're allowed on this earth. Live safely, no matter where you end up, no matter what titles the both of you hold. _

_Live for your own happiness, and smile so that I may forgive myself for what I told you. Your future is yours, and your future involves Baekhyun, I am sure. Chase your love and forget these things a foolish princess said. You were right all along -- you always have been, I believe. _

_My love for you is more abundant than the stars in the sky. Thank you for growing up with me. Thank you for following your heart._

_I wish you only the best,  
Joohyun_

There's a tiny heart drawn next to her name, and Baekhyun imagines her dark hair falling over her shoulder as she sits at her desk penning this letter. She'd heard what had happened, and immediately went to writing a letter for her cousin to receive in the future, a future where she thought they would never see each other again. Suddenly  _he_  feels hollow, realizing that Joohyun had cared for him so much, had only ever wanted Chanyeol to be happy.  

He looks at the fading white ceiling, free hand still in Chanyeol's hair, and belatedly realizes that there's something wet staining his shirt -- Chanyeol is crying softly against him. 

"She loves you so much," Baekhyun makes sure that his voice is soft, tender, just like the nails brushing against Chanyeol's scalp, soothing him. "She knows what she means to you, too." 

"I wish she knew that she kept me going, all those years. She was -- she was my only friend." 

The hair intertwined with his fingers shifts until it's free, and now Chanyeol is face to face with him, cheeks red and eyes bleary. They're so close on this uncomfortable bed, in this bare room, the softness of their voices and hands enough to keep the stiff sheets and scratchy comforter at bay. Nothing could be too rough for him, not if Chanyeol is looking at him like that, not if his tear-stained cheek is resting against the same pillow.

"You can tell her everything when you go back," Baekhyun smiles at the glimmer in his wet eyes, at the way Chanyeol softens even further at the words. "When you prove that your mother is innocent, you will be able to visit again with no hesitation. You can see Joohyun again and make sure she knows how much she truly means to you." 

"What if I can't?" 

Baekhyun stiffens, eyes clouding with confusion as Chanyeol shuts his tightly, as if willing a thought to go away. He's nervous again, not just sorrowful, and Baekhyun feels the change in energy acutely. 

"What if there's no more evidence left to be found? Sehun's family is thorough, and the king is on their side," calloused fingers trace the outline of Baekhyun's lips absentmindedly. Baekhyun watches the rings on his fingers shimmer, digests the words slowly. "What if we should just go to Seoul? You'll be happier there. _We_ could be happier there." 

Baekhyun's pulling away from his touch, scalded. 

"Seoul is filled with paparazzi who know your face and my face and everything about our lives," Baekhyun can't find any appeal in the city he so dearly loves, not at the moment, not with a cloud of fear obscuring his every thought. "You need to stay, since this is where you'll find information on your mother and the Oh family. When your family's name is cleared, we can move freely, and we can go to Seoul. Now isn't the time." 

Chanyeol rolls so that he's flat against the bed, eyes open wide and long fingers fidgeting. Baekhyun's eyes follow every single moment, softening at the anxiety painting the taller's cheeks, at the words that drip with sincerity when he next speaks.

"I want you to be happy," a deep sigh. "I don't know how long it will take me to clear my mother's name. I don't know if you will be happy with me, not when I spend the days bent on revenge and ignoring the reason we  _left_. What if I make you hate me? What if I change?"

Baekhyun's laying back down, something far too dangerous bubbling against his stomach uncomfortably, and he reaches for Chanyeol ever so softly. Their hands meet again, this time scared and gentle, a familiar heat coming to life between the pair. It feels so natural like this, and it's his turn to rest on the taller's chest, reassured. 

His heart is steady against his ear, and Baekhyun whispers his response to the beat, hoping that every word rings true in the taller's mind. 

"If you change, I'll change with you. I want you to clear her name. I want you to be the prince you have always been. If you want me to be happy, let yourself be happy, too." 

Then he's leaning up to kiss at Chanyeol's chin, to meld against his lips as softly as he possibly can. They meet like waves lapping languidly the shore, a mesh of plush lips and unsaid gratefulness, a sense of relief and hope stirring their limbs awake. Baekhyun is wrapped in the others long arms, breath staggered against his cheek as he moves to find a place against Chanyeol. 

"You're enough," the taller's voice comes out in a breath, eyes watching as Baekhyun's figure moves on top of him completely, thin arms wrapping around his neck and hair once again, obviously moving to make claim of his lips. "I want you to be happy. You being happy is enough for me." 

"And I'll never be happy if you aren't. Listen to your heart, and I'll be there. I'll always be there. We have the rest of our lives to go to Seoul." 

The waves pick up the wind, growing in fervor and strength, until they're a mess of panting breaths and roaming hands against this pale background. Baekhyun thinks that Chanyeol looks like an angel, even -- no, especially -- when he's pressed between chalky white sheets and the shorter's body. 

Baekhyun leans down to press kisses against every centimeter of Chanyeol's eyes, starting on the outside and working his way in, delighting in the way his eyelashes flutter with each movement. The prince's cheeks bloom with pink tulips, the rosy tint that accumulates there draining down his golden skin, painting a tiny sunset against Baekhyun's lips. 

He pulls away to watch, smiling. 

"Beautiful, you're so beautiful," he voices out, quieting only when Chanyeol's eyes open and meet his, so dark and so consuming that it makes him shiver. 

"I wish you could know how much I love you," Chanyeol's voice is rough, but his body remains as tender as ever, only warm hands and tiny, soft touches. "I wish you knew." 

"You used to confuse me," he confesses, watching Chanyeol's eyes roam over his face slowly, almost tantalizing. "I couldn't figure out why you were so fake in public, why you were so sweet with me. I didn't understand you. But now I see." 

"See what?" he stutters, and Baekhyun's stomach seizes, affection melting into him, making him feel numb and on fire, all at once. Everything about Chanyeol leaves him this way, leaves him second guessing everything he's ever thought possible.

"You're not that confusing, really," a kiss straight on his lips. "You're just gentle. You want people to like you. You want me to feel safe. And it works." 

Chanyeol's smiling his sweet smile, dimple clearly displayed, and Baekhyun can't hold anything back anymore, not when he's blinding him with that fond look. Their lips are feverish against each other, and Baekhyun's mind is spinning when he realizes just how close they're laying, how each movement of Chanyeol's legs sends him lurching to reconnect their lips even more harshly. 

He feels desperate, needy, and almost foolish -- it's been such a long day, and he knows that this isn't the time to be longing for Chanyeol's touches and mouth all over him, not when the taller was crying only minutes before. Pulling away, he takes a deep breath, trying to expel all the thoughts holding him hostage, all the words of love that he'd let pool in his stomach. 

"Hey," Chanyeol's whisper is even more hushed than usual, and Baekhyun stirs himself from the recesses of his mind to meet curious eyes. "What's wrong? Are you tired?"

"No, I just --" he bites his lip. "I know it's been a tiring day. I don't know if you --" 

Chanyeol nods and sits up in order to kiss him on the lips again, silencing any doubts he could've had. He's about to worry again, to pull away and place distance, but then Chanyeol's smiling against his lips, mouth open and laughing against the corner. 

"You know, the first time I met you, it'd been a tiring day," he punctuates the sentence with a prolonged kiss on the bow of Baekhyun's lips. "Seoul was confusing. It was so bright, so noisy, and I didn't want to sit in that apartment and wait for the inevitable next day. I wanted a drink, so I went out." 

With a sudden movement from the taller, Baekhyun's on his back now. He wants to marvel at the way he'd been moved so carefully, so gently, so expertly, but he can't, not with the entirety of his mind absorbed in this story, with the way Chanyeol's eyes never leave his face, on the lingering touches that slide down his waist to rest at the bottom of his hips. 

"And I didn't know what to expect in a Seoul nightclub. People were trying to dance with me, but I didn't like it," he leans back, spreading Baekhyun's legs and settling in between them naturally, hands never loosening their hold. "I went to get one last drink before I left, actually. But there was this man with eyes that hurt to look at, with lips that made my heart ache. I think I fell for you a little, back then." 

There's an unexplainable warmth and joy choking Baekhyun, a satisfied noise making its way before he can stop it. He's beet red, pleased with the sheer familiarity of this story, and he wonders if Chanyeol had always looked at him this intensely, if there was always a fierce adoration thrumming under his skin. 

"Is that why you let me dance with you? Because I made your heart hurt?" 

Chanyeol laughs fully, loudly, and he ends up stifling it halfheartedly with the back of his hand. The shorter laughs too, even as a small, hollow feeling spreads in his chest from the loss of Chanyeol's hands around him.

"I let you dance with me because I would've agreed to anything you told me, and that's the truth. You were enchanting. I got lucky that you were the one who walked through the door the next day."

Chanyeol moves to pull down his pants, and Baekhyun laughs, kicking at him instead, all fire in his veins extinguished for now. He can't help but be overtaken by a sheer happiness at the taller's words, at his dumb smile and laugh, at the stupid way he'd ended such a lovely story. 

"So you just got lucky that _I'm_  the one you fucked?" 

"What about you? It's the same!" 

"Well, yeah, that was my  _plan!_  I went out because I wanted to get fucked," he sticks out his tongue, laughing at the wideness of Chanyeol's eyes, at the shock residing in them. "It wasn't your plan, though -- you just got lucky you were the one I chose, really." 

The hands fumbling with his legs cease their movements, instead moving to tickle at his sides mercilessly, long and nimble and too accurate. Baekhyun's screaming and rolling away, legs trying their best to kick him away, instead getting caught by strong hands and used against him. Chanyeol pulls him in by the legs, face flushed and out of breath, a smile still on his lips. He's looking into the smaller's eyes with an emotion that makes them sparkle, that makes Baekhyun feel small and content. 

"What?" he asks, jutting out his lip on purpose, happiness blooming when he sees how Chanyeol's eyes follow the action serenely, completely love struck.

The prince's only answer is another kiss on the lips, this time so purposeful and searing that Baekhyun feels as though he might melt, as if the sun itself is closing in on him, leaving him nothing but a glowing, golden mess of adoration in the taller's arms, in the corner of his dazzling smile. 

\-- 

It's been weeks. Every morning, Chanyeol leaves early -- so early that Baekhyun has to squint against the darkness to make out the figure walking around the hotel room, no sunshine in sight. Every morning, without fail, Baekhyun whispers a good luck, feels Chanyeol's fingers card through his hair and soft lips leave him a kiss on the cheek. Every morning, he follows the taller's soft words that tell him to sleep more, closing his eyes against the darkness and whispering sentiments of love and safety to his husband's back. 

He wakes up again surrounded by rays of light, the touches and kiss of his prince only a faint memory, dissolving as quickly as his dreams always do. He stays in bed for a minute, mind running over the possibilities of the day, knowing that Chanyeol will be back soon with some breakfast, with an update from his informants from the palace.

Baekhyun had asked many times whom they were, but even Chanyeol doesn't seem to know exactly what side they are on, only that they are willing to go against the Oh family, that they see no wrong in depleting the prince's bank account in return for spying on them. Every day, Baekhyun hopes for a new piece of information, prays that the informants' constant eye on the Oh family's eldest son and knack for digging into anything and everything will pay off.

He lets the hot water of the shower wash away Chanyeol's kisses from the night before, wash away the frustration that comes with being cooped up in a hotel for weeks at a time. Chanyeol always comes back before the afternoon, hands full of food and smile optimistic, leaving Baekhyun to forget everything he'd so feared when he was alone. 

They cuddle and they dream about the things they will do when this is all over, when Chanyeol is a prince with a free will of his own and Baekhyun feels confident in his crowded city streets once again. They kiss so hard it hurts, and Baekhyun learns so much about Chanyeol, about the way they fit together and affect every aspect of the other. Mostly, they watch TV and laugh at the same parts, curling against each other and reassuring that everything will be okay in the end, that there is nothing to worry about, not when they are so wholeheartedly _together_. 

Stepping out of the shower, he's caught off guard by the voice in the room, by the familiarity of it. It's Chanyeol, he knows, but it  _shouldn't_  be Chanyeol, not this early in the morning, not when he only left an hour or two ago.

"Chanyeol?" 

Wrapping a towel around himself, he peeks his head out of the bathroom door, watching the steam file out of the door and curl around the tall figure. Then Baekhyun's stepping out into the cold air of the hotel room, fear creeping up in a way that it hasn't for weeks now. Now that he's closer, he can see clearly that he's standing by the door, one large hand grasped around a phone, the other knotted in his hair, frustration evident. 

"I know," his voice is as venomous as it had been the night he lunged at Sehun, and it makes the older man worry tenfold. "I  _know_. I will." 

The taller spins around when he senses Baekhyun's presence, a smile forming almost instinctively, awkward and forced on his lips, clearly hesitant. 

"What's wrong?" Baekhyun mouths, knowing that he can't be too loud for fear of disturbing their phone call. Chanyeol shakes his head softly, dejectedly, and Baekhyun's hurriedly pulling on an oversized shirt of the taller's, swallowing the lump in his throat as he shuffles into boxers. 

"I will." 

Then the call is over, and the taller is in front of him, eyes bright and dim at the same time, a tiredness shimmering in them that Baekhyun had been avoiding noticing. It hurts to see him this close, to be unaware of what's happening, to itch to fix it in any way he can.

"What happened?" 

"They found evidence of the Oh family's corruption -- a lot of it. The king can't deny it, even if he tries, and --" Chanyeol's arms are wrapping around him very suddenly, nose burying in the top of his head and lips leaving kisses feverishly on the crown of his head. "And I need to do something about it." 

"What kind of evidence? What happened? What are you going to do?" he feels panicked, is sure that his voice is urgent and high-pitched against Chanyeol's chest, just as urgent as the pounding heart so close to him.

"A journal," his voice is cracking, far too raw and scared for Baekhyun's heart to handle. He grasps at the taller desperately, trying to soothe him, to calm his shaking voice and staccato heartbeat. "It was my uncle's. It -- it was very clear that he was against the king. But he also made it very clear that the Oh family was against the king, too." 

Baekhyun stills. Hating Chanyeol and his mother, he had known -- but Sehun's family had always been the lap dog of the king, the ones that garnered his trust to a fault. 

“My mom was loyal. Sehun’s family wasn’t, isn’t — they were in on it with my uncle, and they let him take the blame when it was all found out,” he’s shaking he’s so angry, and Baekhyun's arms move to hold his back, steadying him with tiny pats against his spine. “They wanted to lock me up and send me to Paris so that I wouldn't figure out that _they_ were the ones trying to overthrow the king.” 

“So, they wanted to get rid of the king, but it didn't work? They let your uncle take the fall?" each word cuts the taller like a knife, and Baekhyun's cheek feels cold against his chest. "Does that mean that Sehun still wants to be the next king? What about Junmyeon? Is he going to hurt him?” 

“That’s why I need to go,” Chanyeol sighs and rubs his forehead against Baekhyun's, eyes steeped in exhaustion. He looks pale, thin, and Baekhyun’s heart hurts -- he misses the golden skin, the easy smiles, the hopeful lips against his. “I have to tell Junmyeon. I have to tell the king.” 

“What if they don’t believe you? What if they take you like last time?” Baekhyun’s throat is tight, and he wonders if there’s any air filling his lungs at all, or if Chanyeol's body heat is what is keeping him alive right now. “What if you’re locked up?” 

“They couldn't lock me up if they tried,” Chanyeol’s voice is stronger than Baekhyun’s ever heard it, even more than when he’d finally spoken against the king, despite the way his entire body is revolting at the news. “No matter what, I’m coming back for you. I promise, love.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY again for the wait. finals are wild in college and also i had family health issues and i'm generally a mess in winter. i love you all so much and i hope you liked this!!! I LOVE YOU ALL thanks bye bye i need to sleep heeheh
> 
> aff: baekyall  
> twitter: baekyalls  
> other: curiouscat.me/baekyall


	14. fourteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (sorry for the wait BUT its 5.3k which is more than usual so! yay!) 

He settles large hands on his own elbows, steadying himself and drowning out the fearful thoughts that stain the corners of his mind. The large marble columns pierce the velvety orange sunset above them, and a clench of familiarity fills his stomach, all-consuming and dreadful. As he watches the palace grow closer, Chanyeol curses the tiny voice inside his mind that, even after weeks of running and hiding, whispers one word on repeat: home, home, home. 

The crunch of familiar pavement under the tires rings through his chest, and he wonders blankly whether this was a good idea after all, whether he should've protested more against the smaller and taken Baekhyun back to Seoul the second they'd fled. But then his window is being rolled down, leaving him to only gape up at the guards, eyes wide and probably more tired than usual, fatigue and worry settled into the dark circles forming under them. He's exhausted, and he looks the part fully -- he knows he hadn't been concealing it well, not when he'd look at Baekhyun and be met with concerned eyes, with extra gentle kisses on his cheeks.

He worries whether he's recognizable as a prince of this palace. Mostly, he wonders if the king had told everyone to forget his existence entirely.

It feels surreal when the guards' faces blanche in recognition, when he's met with no obstacles besides the blistering terror that floods his veins. His jaw is clenched so tightly that it's almost painful, and he suddenly wonders if Baekhyun is feeling this same way, sat alone in their hotel room, waiting for him to return safely like he'd promised.

As always, there's a seed of doubt that sprouts in his mind, a faint warning that spreads to the tips of his fingers and makes them waver -- there is no guarantee that he will fulfill his promise to Baekhyun, that he will even accomplish what he's set out to do. But he decides not to water this fear and allow it to blossom, focusing on the importance of what he needs to make known.

Then the gates are open and he's back inside familiar high walls, staring at well-groomed gardens and high arches, at warm-toned stones and white marble slabs that frame every memory he has. The car is slowing down, and he grips the black leather seats, letting his cheeks fill with air before he slowly releases the breath. He's seen Baekhyun do this when he's angry, when his eyes blaze black and he waves his hurt arm around fast enough to make his lips fold into a tiny pout. It has to help calming people down, somehow.

"Thank you," Chanyeol's voice comes out cracked and deep, practically broken, and he meets his driver's steady gaze with a grateful nod.

His feet hit the ground and he winces at how his knees lock in the slightest, once again puffing his cheeks like Baekhyun does, channeling any strength he can as he finds his way toward the grand doors, journal clenched in his shaky hand.

\-- 

The room is black, tinted an unsettling maroon by the streetlights that illuminate the glass of the window. Baekhyun can't remember the room ever being this cold before, this sterile -- the white sheets mock him and the tidiness wraps its hand around his neck, keeping him from breathing fully. This room is suffocating. Weeks of his life had been spent in this confines of this hotel room, but never alone, never filled with distress as acute as this. 

Though he knows not to expect Chanyeol back quickly, each second that passes pounds against his head, making it hard to focus on anything besides the way time flows too slowly, on the lack of the taller in this room. Time is against him now, so Baekhyun clings onto the warmth of Chanyeol's jacket and wishes the fear away. 

He won't cry -- he's promised himself this. Chanyeol wouldn't want him to cry, he knows, and he needs to keep his eyes open and alert, ready to leap forward and answer the door at any time. He needs to be aware in order to fall into the prince's arms when he returns, successful, joyful. It  _will_  happen, he tells himself, even as he bites his lip involuntarily and snuggles closer to Chanyeol's clothing.

His entire brain is filled with images of Chanyeol's shining smile, with the way he'd looked the first night they'd laid eyes on each other. So tall, mysterious, so handsome -- so prince-like, of course. He fills his mind with the thought of their hands connecting naturally, with the image of a gangly prince tripping over himself in his mother's cottage, of a mangled declaration of love making its way into the air, leaving the taller's eyes wide and hopeful. Large hands against Baekhyun's waist as they waltzed across the floor, glimmering rings and twinkling eyes meeting, lilac lighting dyeing Chanyeol's cheeks a rosy pink. The prince's wide shoulders and the way he hangs off of them when he's the big spoon at night, eyes closed and heartbeats hushed.

It hurts to think about when he is painfully aware of their distance right now, of the consequences that rest on Chanyeol's shoulders, of the restlessness that fills his every moment. He almost whispers his wishes out but he refrains, knowing that it would be of no use -- his words will hit the window and ricochet back, will never make it to the prince. It's better to close his eyes and store all of them deep within, next to all of his childhood memories, next to the sound of Chanyeol's morning voice. 

Sleep begins to overcome him, even as he struggles against his heavy eyelids, as he rolls over in an attempt to force himself awake.  _Chanyeol will come_ , he reminds himself, rubbing his eyes,  _Chanyeol will come._ And for a moment, everything is a blur -- it's dark in this room, and he's so warm under this blanket, overcome by the familiar scent of Chanyeol, by the sparks of light that dance behind his eyelids. It feels like Chanyeol is  _here_ , and he stops rubbing his eyes quickly, hands reaching out before he can even open them again. They're splayed against the bed, searching, and Baekhyun feels a defeated whimper slip out whenever they find nothing but sheets, nothing but cold air on top of the comforter. 

 _Chanyeol will come_ , his eyes are hot with tears, and he shakes his head, pulling the comforter up to his chin and huffing out a quivering breath.  _Chanyeol will come._

He falls asleep that night draped in darkness, anxiety pooling in the corners of his eyes, a heightened fear of being alone in this room slipping across his mind. 

\--

It feels so odd to be wavering in front of this door, to be scared to enter the grand dining room. He hears voices and knows that there are people in there, that one of them is most likely the king -- but he pauses still, sudden dread filling him up completely. The guard had, no doubt, already told the king of his arrival as soon as it happened. There was no way he was walking in to an audience with his family and the king without them  _knowing_  first. There was no way for him to tell whether the faint voices he hears on the other side of the door are members of the royal family and guests or guards, if they're here to grab him as soon as the door opens. 

The haze of paranoia is cleared when he hears his name, softly, so softly, from behind him. 

"Chanyeol?" 

Joohyun's voice is as tiny as he's ever heard it, barely above a whisper. Her eyes flicker between his hands, between the one raised parallel to the door and the one holding the journal so tightly that his knuckles are white. Then her eyes are trailing up his chest and landing on his face, unspoken questions permeating between them so thickly that Chanyeol struggles for air in the gaps between them. 

"It's really you?" a cautious step toward him. Chanyeol's mind races, replaying the words of the letter in his mind like a bird sings its repetitive morning song. "Why are you here?" 

"There is a way to clear both my mother's and my name. I had to come back." 

She's so close now, examining him with terse lips, aquamarine dress trailing behind her like the foam that rips across waves in the shallow end of the sea. Chanyeol can't help but view her as the ocean that crashes against the shore, the constant pull and push against him. She is like his big sister, after all -- present in everything he knows, responsible to a fault, beloved in a way he doesn't know how to vocalize. 

"You will prove her innocence to the king? After all these years?"

Chanyeol watches the hope spring to life in her eyes, and he nods along with it, following the gleam in her small smile. He wants to prove it, wants to absolve her of her guilt, wants to feel as though he is accepted in the only place he's ever known. 

"I will prove it," he wraps arms around her as gently as he can, knowing that there is a strain on their relationship right now, even if, in Chanyeol's heart, everything has been resolved. "Thank you for your letter. I'll do my best, for all of us." 

"Baekhyun?" they pull apart, and she looks around worriedly. "Is he with you?" 

"He stayed back. I did not trust that the guards would treat him kindly. No matter what I say, I am still royalty. _That_ privilege isn't extended to him." 

She purses her lips and looks down dejectedly. Chanyeol knows it's because of the letter, the way she'd never fully explained herself to the smaller man, how quickly everything had transpired those few weeks ago. Before he can reveal that Baekhyun had read it, she is pulling him in for another hug, this time shorter, and he can feel her relief from the grip she has on his shoulders. It's stiff, but Chanyeol has missed the awkward air that surrounds her, the way her eyes betray her every emotion. He's missed her.

"Good luck," her voice shakes, and she leaves a tiny pat on his back. "I will walk in with you. The king knows where my alliances stand now -- it will not surprise him." 

And she does. She's no longer the gentle push and pull of the waves -- Chanyeol watches her push through the double doors, a tidal wave of blue skirt following her, a current of emotion fueling every movement. He walks in behind her and observes the familiar room, the wide table, the windows lining each wall, the king sitting at the front of it all. Jongin and Jongdae are here, too, and Chanyeol pauses for a moment, watching the brothers' eyes bug out at the sight of him. It's almost funny, but then the king's piercing stare is on him, and he doesn't think he'll ever laugh again. 

"Have you come running back with your tail between your legs, Prince Chanyeol?" 

It's demeaning, but with Joohyun standing guard at his side and evidence in his hand, he feels less vulnerable, feels as though he can brush off the remarks for once. His mind drifts to Baekhyun waiting for him, and now he feels powerful, unstoppable. He has a promise to keep, a cousin to protect, a mother to defend. 

"I have come to show you something you need to see," Jongin and Jongdae's heads snap toward the king to gauge his reaction at those words, to marvel in the lack of sadness that Chanyeol's responses always carried. "It is about traitors in your palace." 

The room goes deathly silent. Despite Chanyeol knowing that the king will not believe him right away, he still feels satisfaction in the shocked response he garners, in the panic that flashes through the older man's eyes. It feels as though he's won a tiny battle, as if he's discovered a weakness in the man who always seemed so far away, so untouchable.

He's guffawing, voice loud and indignant against the hushed audience in front of him, against the fire in Chanyeol's eyes.

"Of course, a traitor would know best about others of his kind," the insult seems forced, but it still hurts the tallest prince slightly, still leaves him wincing at the harshness of the words. He won't let cruel remarks win, he reminds himself fervently, focusing on keeping a blank expression and clear mind. 

"I have a journal found in the possessions of my late uncle. It details that he was, in fact, a traitor. You are correct," Chanyeol hates the smug smile that twists across the older man's facial features, hates the perturbed glance Joohyun throws to him. "But my family, as a whole, are not traitors. He makes no mention of anyone else from my family." 

"You came here to prove that a dead man received the right verdict? You wish to tell me that I know how to judge my subjects correctly? This will not get you back into my good graces, I assure you." 

Chanyeol takes the deepest breath he can to avoid letting any of the words pile on his shoulders and drag him down. He tries, truly.

It feels as though he's young all over again, watching the only connection to his mother fade out of his life over the span of a week, a faint memory only days after his treason was discovered. He had refused to stay trapped in prison for life, took a leap from the ragged edges of the rocks near Chanyeol's window, and disappeared among the waves mere hours before he was to be sentenced. Chanyeol hadn't known how to process it, how to understand that his uncle was no longer here, that the wind and water had swallowed his uncle whole, just like it had his mother's ashes. He still doesn't want to understand. 

 _Mother, Baekhyun, Junmyeon._ The names float in his mind, keeping him focused, keeping him from slipping into memories he'd forced himself to forget. 

"I did not come here to plead for my uncle. I came here to inform you of the traitors that still remain in this palace, years later. You assumed that my uncle had more people supporting his thinking, and you were right -- you just assumed incorrectly. It was not my family. It was not my mother, and it was definitely not  _me_." 

Now he's striding toward the older man, limbs almost numb from fear. Jongdae and Jongin's eyes follow him so intensely, honing in the on the tiny journal in his hand, on the way Chanyeol thrusts it forward, only the way the king retracts from the sudden movement, fearful.

He's never been  _this_  close to the king, not since he was little, anyway, and it sends his mind into a frenzy. Only a foot away, Chanyeol watches as the warning hand he'd held up slowly droops, eyes scanning over the journal in front of him. 

"And what is this?"  

"My uncle's journal. It details that my family is innocent, and that the Oh family is not. They let my uncle take the fall for them, but they hoped for your demise just as much as he did, if not more. They still do." 

The room bursts into life, voices yelling and moving toward the king, all loud and clashing against each other. It's chaos, guards rushing in so quickly that Chanyeol feels trapped for air, that he can hear Joohyun yelping, too. It's a big accusation, he's aware, and everyone who had been watching in silence is suddenly surrounding them. He thinks he might hear Jongdae's voice in the crowd, loud and confused and eager to reach him. 

The taller is searching for his cousins, making sure that he hasn't lost Joohyun's tiny figure in the crowd, when he realizes with a lurching stomach that the journal is gone -- his hand is empty.

He's spinning around, searching for it, mind going hazy as he looks desperately for the only thing keeping him afloat in this situation. The room is crashing around him, like the pounding in his head, like the tears that Baekhyun will cry if he doesn't come back.  _No_ , he's pleading, hands brushing against the guards as they surround him even closer.  _This can't be happening._

But then he sees that it's the king who has it in his grasp, that his eyes are scanning the words on the marked pages. Suddenly, he feels as light as air, as if he's floating outside of the chaos erupting around him, as if he can't be bothered to acknowledge anything except the anger settling into the monarch's weathered eyes. There's a familiar emotion emanating from the king, but for once, Chanyeol doesn't think it's targeted at him. 

"End this!" his voice cuts through the ruckus like a knife, and the crowd of guards disperses slightly, allowing Chanyeol to make wary eye contact with Joohyun. He can't shake the feeling of victory, of relief, even as her eyes flash with worry in response. "Is this truly legitimate? You expect me to believe it? The Oh family has always been my closest ally in this palace." 

"I had informants from the palace locate it," Chanyeol watches at the Kim brothers stiffen at the bluntness of his statement, at the insinuation that there are many people in these walls who would betray the king's trust for the right prize. "It was in my uncle's old desk in the north eastern wing. You can have it tested for veracity, but I assure you it is the truth." 

If the king wants to criticize Chanyeol's use of informants, it doesn't show -- only a curious,  drawn expression is displayed to the tallest prince. He seems like he's _considering_ it. He can't leave without making sure the king is convinced, without regaining the sense of dignity his mother's name had been given, without giving himself a sense of peace for once in his life. 

"You have already had to bail Oh Sehun out of associations with kidnappers," he hopes the venom in his tone doesn't work against him, but he can't control it, not when he remembers everything that had happened. It's still too fresh in his mind to be glossed over, and he shifts uncomfortably at the thought of Baekhyun being alone, waiting for him, once again. "He threatened my husband as a way of scaring me -- he wanted to keep me silent about this issue if I ever found out, I presume." 

"Your majesty, he is right," Jongdae's voice is confident, unlike his body language, unlike the shifting smile he gives to Chanyeol. "I am closest to Sehun among the cousins, and he often says  _things_  that I'd ignored. I thought he was joking, perhaps. But I have long had a fear that Sehun meant something more serious by his jokes. I apologize for not telling you sooner." 

Again, silence. Chanyeol has never wanted to smother Jongdae with affection as much as he does right now. Until this moment, he'd avoided the boy, blinded by his talkative relationship with Sehun, by the pure fear that the older boy would hate him after years of Sehun's words infecting his thoughts. He breathes through his nose, hard, eyes teeming with too many emotions, with the way the king's facial expression changes at his words. 

"We will investigate," Chanyeol's heart leaps, and he fears it might fall out of his chest. The king's eyes shift to the guards, steadier and sharper than anytime Chanyeol's ever been scolded by him. "Bring the Oh family." 

\--

Baekhyun wakes in the dark of the early morning, fully expecting a hand threading through his hair and familiar lips on his cheek. But when he opens his eyes, there is no Chanyeol, no warmth next to him -- it's cold and lonely, still. His chest feels hollow. Chanyeol hadn't come back last night. He  _knew_  this would happen, knew that there would be no reasoning with the king, not after years of ingrained hatred for the Park family, not after Chanyeol's blatant disrespect for him last time. He should've stopped him from going, should've convinced the younger that anywhere was okay if it was him. He closes his eyes again, words that he could've told Chanyeol displayed before him, right next to pictures of them laying in this hotel room peacefully, safely.

Justice could wait for a moment until they were both stable enough to confront him slowly, methodically instead of running back to the palace by wind of an excitement fueled sprint.

If Chanyeol can break the promise to come back as quickly as possible, he can break the promise he'd made to himself as well -- so he rolls onto his back and lets himself sob openly into the dissonant darkness of the room, not feeling any remorse for wiping snot all over Chanyeol's jacket.  _That's what he gets,_ his sleepy, emotional mind whispers. 

But then he thinks about having to wash the jacket to clean it and, effectively, losing Chanyeol's scent and cologne and residual warmth. This almost makes him cry harder, but then panic clogs his airways and makes it impossible for him to move, much less cry. There's someone knocking on the door, someone with timid hands and no footsteps, someone who is _not_ Chanyeol. 

If it was his prince, the taller would yell his name like a prayer and knock in an excited way. If it was Chanyeol, the taller man would already be in the doorway, glittering smile and messy hair and warm lips waiting to envelope Baekhyun in their entirety. But it's not, and the sheer idea of it being a guard from the palace or another kidnapper makes him stumble to the bathroom with his rubber legs, shaking and sobbing as quietly as he possibly can. 

 _This is it_.  _Chanyeol was locked up, and they sent a search party to locate the man he betrayed his country for._

"Baekhyun," the voice says softly, just loud enough to be heard inside. "Baekhyun?" 

_This is it._

"Baekhyun, it's prince --" the voice pauses, uncomfortable, and Baekhyun calms his heart rate and breathing to strain and hear the rest. It's soft and sweet and shy, something that Baekhyun doesn't associate with kidnappers or palace guards. It makes him squint at his disheveled reflection in the bathroom mirror. "Well, I guess to you, it's not prince, really -- um, it's Jongin. You know, Chanyeol's cousin. He --" 

He stops listening, dumbfounded. His heart is pounding against his chest, and, despite the fear still holding him hostage, he stands on wobbly knees and attempts to look through the peep hole without alerting those waiting outside the door. Tan skin, handsome face, tired expression -- it truly is Jongin (granted, surrounded by guards) and Baekhyun closes his eyes, steadying himself on the wall with his good hand. 

Jongin's voice rings out again, this time frightfully low, as if he knows how close Baekhyun is to the door at the moment: "He asked me to come get you. You can come back to the palace, if you so wish." 

And maybe it's a trap, and maybe Chanyeol wouldn't send Jongin of all people, but Baekhyun is too weary to overthink anything. He wants to see Chanyeol, wants to fall into his arms like he used to, wants to see their sky blue room once again, wants to relieve all the nights of hushed conversations and hurried kisses against those sheets. He wants to go home -- and to him, Chanyeol is home. 

Taking a leap of faith, he wishes one last time for his and Chanyeol's safety, unlocking the door and waiting for Jongin's cautious hands to open it, to take him back to the man he so longs for. 

\-- 

Nothing has changed. Even after weeks, it seems as though the maids have not been allowed in their room, as if the king had wanted to keep it preserved this way in case he wanted to find evidence against Chanyeol. It's sinister and it makes his stomach clench a little, but it's okay -- because it also means that their clothes are scattered on the floor, that Chanyeol's drawer is still open, that their sheets are wrinkled and thrown together in a pile on the bed. It feels real, a lot realer than the rough texture of the hotel, than the hurried kisses laced with anxiety in that dark room each night. 

The curtains still flow with each breath the wind blows into their room, and Chanyeol still glitters when he sits at his desk, the first cracks of sunshine hitting him across his golden cheekbones and resting on his wide hands. He's focused, intent on finishing something, and Baekhyun studies his wide back, studies the way his shoulders hunch when he's focused, the pout that takes hold of his lips. So far, he hasn't been noticed -- the taller is engrossed in the paperwork at his desk, and Baekhyun is too mesmerized by the beauty of the taller in front of him to break this serene moment. 

He's tiptoeing toward his prince, so quietly, so carefully, and he puts his hands on Chanyeol's shoulders as tenderly as he can, pushing them back down into a comfortable position, alleviating the stress that is building against his neck. Chanyeol startles and jumps, turning in his chair as if he's been burned -- and then his eyes register who it is. He realizes that something had gone _right_ for them and hurries to stand, wrapping Baekhyun in his grasp as if it'd been years. 

"I did it," Chanyeol's beaming as he stands. Baekhyun nods along, knowing this already from Jongin's explanation on the ride here, knowing that Chanyeol had been brave and amazing and smart, that he'd made his mother and himself proud. "They're investigating starting today. Baekhyun, I did it." 

The shorter nuzzles his head against the taller's chest, leaving small kisses on his collarbones as a way of congratulating him. He's so content to be in his arms, to be in this room, sleepy and warm and surrounded by the man he loves most. He's still drowsy off of Chanyeol's comforting presence when he's pulled toward the taller's lips, their mouths moving slower than usual, gentle and carefree. There is no rush, no impending doom, no fear -- Baekhyun only tastes love on his lips, only detects fondness in the arms that push him back toward the bed.

Everything is so  _gentle_. Chanyeol's breath in his ear isn't loud, just a steady puff of air as they climb into bed, melting together in ways that feel so familiar, yet so new. The taller's hand glides down his waist and stops at his hips, squeezing the tiny bit of fat accumulated there, smiling when Baekhyun narrows his eyes and nips at his lips in response to the gesture. 

"I missed you," Chanyeol breathes it into his mouth, and his hands have completely rid Baekhyun of pants, large fingers moving to grasp at soft thighs under the comforter. "I missed this bedroom. I missed kissing you when there's sunshine all over you. I missed feeling  _happy_." 

"I didn't know if this," Baekhyun's head falls back, and Chanyeol smiles against his cheeks, warm hands cradling plush thighs and ass as gently as he can, running nails along the skin in a way that makes the shorter jerk forward, a sloppy kiss on Chanyeol's upper lip the only thing he can manage. "I didn't know if this -- us -- I didn't know." 

There's more to be said, but then Chanyeol's tongue is against his, stopping him from voicing more fears, and he knows that he's understood, that all of them were wrong. There is no worrying, not when the taller is shedding his pants and shirt, barely disconnecting his lips from an inch of Baekhyun's skin.

The thought of the taller longing to be close to him like that always, always makes him turn to jelly, makes his stomach drop. Chanyeol pants against his lips when Baekhyun moves his hands to pull him closer, resting on his back and holding him so tight it almost hurts. He needs to be close to him, needs to feel the heat of every molecule of the taller against him. 

They're moving together, Baekhyun squirming under the probing fingers and lingering kisses, and Chanyeol arching against the teeth that Baekhyun grazes across his neck. Baekhyun smiles at the way the younger shivers at it, ghosting his mouth over it again, determined to actually cross the line, but Chanyeol's fingers quicken and Baekhyun feels the heat all the way in his spine, falling slack against the bed, a happy whine dripping from his lips. 

It feels like hours -- hours of sweet torture to Baekhyun -- until they're connected, voices mixing together in the heated air that drifts between them.

The way Chanyeol grips him, so hard yet tender, hands tight around him but never rough, just enough to hold him in place as they move together, makes Baekhyun shake against the man behind him, makes him close his eyes completely, forgetting everything but the feeling of Chanyeol against him, inside him. There is nothing that he feels more than the soft lips against his spine, the dainty licks that Chanyeol leaves there, both gifted in time with Chanyeol's hips. 

To be with Chanyeol feels like being home, like filling a missing part of himself, and Baekhyun whispers this against the sheets, against his own flushed cheek. Chanyeol's body snaps against him, a stuttered "I love you" draped over his back in response, and Baekhyun almost screams out of ecstasy, joy, pleasure. 

Time blurs, and all the pair can sense is each other, the pure heat in their touches, so burning and fervent that it almost scares the shorter. He wants to fear the way Chanyeol makes him feel, the way he lights him up so wholly, but then he feels Chanyeol's hands leave his hips to comb through his hair, whispering something about how he needs a haircut, and he bursts into laughter and forgets every worried that had ever existed. There is no one who makes him laugh one second and yelp the next, and, most importantly, there is no one who loves him so passionately, so warmly, so fully. 

It's all too warm suddenly, too overstimulating, and Baekhyun shakes his head against the bed, entire body screaming at him in contentment and a need for more -- more until it's too much, until he feels himself losing control. He verbalizes this desperately, moaning at the way Chanyeol complies and speeds up, at the way he's wrapped in the taller's arms and brought to his chest, at the way Chanyeol's deep voice makes him cry out even louder. 

Then they're falling together, overwhelmed, an electric shock spreading between them both, shaking hands finding each other once again, trembling lips meeting in the middle to press open-mouthed kisses together, exhausted.

It's fully morning now, and the sun is completely up, highlighting the thin layer of sweat that coats the both of them, that shines on the affectionate fingertips that trace patterns against the taller's open palm. He looks closely, noticing his own expression of adoration reflected in Chanyeol's eyes, and realizes that, for the first time in a long time, he isn't worried. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SCREAM ok plot development!!!!!!! also that """""smut""""" was bad but?? it's fine. this is fine. 
> 
> i love you all so so so so much ohmy gosh i hope you have a good morning/evening Goodbye <333333
> 
> aff: baekyall  
> twitter: baekyalls  
> other: curiouscat.me/baekyall


	15. fifteen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FINALLY UPDATED! i love you guys for sticking with me lmao

On the walk to breakfast, Chanyeol is met with familiar sharp features, with eyes that brood and look through him as easily as glass, a mind that searches for weaknesses and exploits them easily. Chanyeol has spent his entire life avoiding that gaze, cowering under it, and now he’s staring into a brown abyss that knows him far too well, into a face that has shown nothing but distaste for him since they were children. Sehun stares back, features dissonant and almost pained, suit and hair strikingly dark against the muted colors of the palace. 

Chanyeol hadn’t expected to see his youngest cousin, not when he was scheduled to begin his hearing and subsequent questioning this morning, not when he’d assumed Sehun was already being investigated and condemned in front of the king.

His heart drums in his ears, a steady worry crawling through limbs and taking hold. Sehun should’ve already had his audience with the king -- they shouldn’t be able to meet in the hallway like this, even if the younger is surrounded by guards, even if Chanyeol is in his rightful mindset. This shouldn’t be _happening._

Everything comes to a stand still and both men turn toward each other, two tall bodies going rigid with anger and fear and something akin to loathing, something that has been accumulating between them for years. This moment in the hallway feels like a culmination of every tear Chanyeol has ever cried, every night that he’s spent questioning what he’d ever done to deserve the younger’s hatred and to garner no more than a pitying glance from the man who rules his country.

His mind registers their exchange as a tipping point, a sudden change in the weather, a stormy cloud overhead. In Chanyeol’s world, the younger is slipping under the waves, hands grasping for anything to keep him afloat, cold and dark and suffocating -- Chanyeol can’t help, not now, not after everything that’s transpired. He watches the pale hand sink under, observes the ripples that form across the surface of the water. He feels pained and sick despite his better judgment.  

The guards step back, allowing them space to talk, and suddenly it feels like Sehun is eyeing him up for one last battle -- the tallest doesn’t even want to find out what it entails, stomach lurching as if he’d missed the last step on his way downstairs, unfamiliar and terrifying. The halls in the palace are always open and airy, but now they feel bare and off putting. The only thing that stands out against the white marble and pastel paintings is Sehun’s tall figure, his dark clothes and eyes, his biting tongue. 

“What’s with the look in your eye? You feel guilty for letting my family fall?” Sehun’s voice is trained, deliberately calm and collected. Chanyeol can sense that he feels anything but. “It’s too late to regret. You don’t deserve to care anymore. It’s your fault.”

Sehun steps forward, and his shoes ring out loudly against the floor, the sound cutting into Chanyeol’s chest and leaving gashes there, open and festering. Chanyeol can only hope that, one day, they’ll heal. Sehun’s eyes don’t betray him, unwavering and broiling with hatred with each inch he crosses toward the tallest prince.

Watching Sehun draw closer, Chanyeol is infinitely grateful that Baekhyun was too sleepy to get up and join him this morning, too exhausted to bother with putting on clothes and dragging himself down to eat with the others.

(“Chanyeol, we’ve been gone for weeks. They’ll live without my presence for one more day. Also, shouldn’t the king and Junmyeon be busy dealing with the Oh family? The higher ranking officials won’t know, after all.” There’s a tiny laugh from under the covers, amused at his own words. Chanyeol smiles, too. “Bring me back strawberries and a kiss, please.”)

It comforts him to no end to know his husband is still serenely sleeping, the soothing sound of waves and morning birds drowning out any noise that could be produced in this hallway. _Baekhyun won’t be affected by Sehun anymore._ He repeats it over and over like a melody, like it’s the only lifeline drifting toward him across a stormy sea. 

He steels himself, hardening his features and making sure that they’re unreadable to the younger. There is a part of his heart that tugs at the thought of what he's done, at the way he's truly torn his entire family in half, even if it is for the best, for the safety of those he cares about most. It weighs on his conscience despite it all, but he ignores the weight that settles over his shoulders, instead honing in on the details of Sehun’s suit and the medallions adorning it. 

Anything to keep his face neutral, his mind collected -- anything to prove Sehun wrong.

“I don’t care. There’s nothing for me to care about. Your family dug their own hole,” he feels as though each word he spits out is molten lava, scalding and devastating to the younger. “You and your family have lost all right for pity.”

He thinks he's hit a nerve in the younger, finally cracked some of the ice that he wears across his features. He’s wrong, if Sehun’s composed look gives him any indication. 

“My family wanted a competent ruler. We wanted change. If your king was foolish enough to trust us the most, it only proves our views correct.” 

Chanyeol stills, wondering if the guards will do anything, if this counts as a confession, if there will be any repercussions. 

Suddenly, he wonders if Sehun is on the way to his hearing or coming back from it; both possibilities make his chest tighten almost painfully. 

“I was raised by people who recognized what this nation needs, and I’m sorry you couldn't understand that both my family and your uncle are right,” Sehun smiles as he says it, thick eyebrows raising in a teasing manner, long fingers dusting off nonexistent dust from the hem of his jacket.

Chanyeol fumes, silent and tempestuous and overwhelming.

"Nothing your family or," his voice drops, hushed, secretive. "my uncle -- nothing they did was right." 

“Of course _you_ would say that. You always were too loyal, too trusting. We set the blame on your uncle and, eventually, you," his features harden, suddenly seeming years older and a sickeningly grave. Chanyeol's mind is whirling, hands threatening to ball into fists. "We blamed you, and he believed it. He mistreated you, spoke ill of your mother at every turn, and sent you abroad at the slightest suggestion. Yet you still lick the ground the king walks on."

Chanyeol knows that the younger is baiting him, but there are some things that he can't bear to hear, not after weeks of working with insiders in the palace, weeks of rebelling against the king's orders in order to keep Baekhyun by his side and prove his mother innocent. He'd rebelled, and it took everything inside him to do it. Sehun has no right to say this, to belittle the agony he's waded through, the fear that gripped him so tightly each night. 

"You know nothing of what I think of the king," hearing his voice go this deep, he recoils in shock, his own boiling anger scalding him from the inside out. The words burn his tongue and the corners of his eyes. "Your family knows nothing. You are all greedy, not selfless rebels who hope for change. You wish for power and money, not for the good of the people." 

"And you're pathetic, but we figured that out rather quickly," Sehun spits it back, as if he'd rehearsed every name he'd wanted to call Chanyeol, as if these insults are nothing to him. "You sat back and did nothing your entire life. The least you could’ve done was allow yourself to grow bitter and join us -- you could have adopted our views. You could've been part of a better world, you know. It is too late to try and be bold now." 

"I could not be complacent," he struggles to take a deep breath, eyes searching to meet the eyes of the guards, to gauge their reactions. He is not sure that he has it in him to argue much more, the chaotic anger sapping every ounce of energy left streaming through his blood. "Not anymore."

For the first time, Sehun is hiding nothing from his eyes -- his entire body is stiff, lips twitching with unsaid cruelties, and Chanyeol thinks that maybe, maybe he has won in more ways than one, at least for now. 

"Complacency suits you; stupidity was my favorite of your qualities." 

The taller urges himself to calm down, to take the insult, to refrain from lunging forward. There is no way he will use force, not after enduring years of abuse from the younger, from the entire palace. He has proven his mother innocent, has doomed Sehun to whatever punishment he earns, has punished Baekhyun's assailants -- he's accomplished everything he'd promised to himself, and that is a victory in itself. 

"You won't be able to see my stupidity or complacency anymore," his next words are cruel, and it stings as he says them, a vindictive heat spreading in his stomach. "Not when you are in prison for your treasonous crimes." 

The look that Sehun gives him, Chanyeol is accustomed to -- a petty snarl of the lips, indignant eyes following his every movement as if the youngest will lunge forward in an instant, anger and violence clawing its way up his throat and turning the boy's features sour.

“You were complacent in your loneliness. You were loyal to a fault," Sehun's voice goes sweet, too kind and caring for the situation, and it makes Chanyeol's heart rate pick up. "He woke you up, though — he made you explain your past to him, made you think harder about everything, made the fire inside you reignite. Your rebelling got him hurt -- I hope you know that.” 

 _Baekhyun._ It’s so obvious now, so blatantly clear, and Chanyeol hates the paralyzing regret that carves its icy finger tips against his spine, leaves him shaking against the dread in that clogs his veins, frozen in place.

"His pain, his tears, everything," Sehun knows that he is winning now, eyes observing the way Chanyeol's body caves in slightly. "It was all because you decided to wake up. If you didn't want to join us, you should've remained oblivious. You shouldn't have hurt him."

"I didn't hurt him. It was your family who orchestrated everything. You can't believe what you're saying, can you? You can't truly think this?" 

“The original plan was to have you pay off the middle men and get him back, you know,” Sehun looks almost bored, lips puffing up in feigned leisure, eyes brooding. “You fund us, and we scare you. It was simple. You didn't have to go through that much trouble — Baekhyun was never in any _real_ danger."

“Don't say his name. You don't deserve to." 

Chanyeol thinks he might actually lash out now, memories of Baekhyun sobbing into his shoulder and curling in on himself flooding his mind. His mind conjures up the images of the bruises that stained his skin for weeks after, Sehun's gentle fingers touching them and faking surprise. It hurts all over again, and Chanyeol feels physically sick thinking about that night, his own form of hatred flickering in his eyes.  

“Baekhyun was supposed to be returned to you, maybe a little bruised, with a warning implied —you should stop thinking too hard about your old family and focus on keeping the new one safe instead," the younger shrugs, eyes lighting up at Chanyeol's instinctive jolt forward. "You ended the game a little too early, though. Always ruining things -- it's so like you." 

The taller jumps forward, anger finally too much to stand, his body unable to endure much more of this mental torture. He can't stand hearing Sehun talk about the worst night of his life as if it was entertaining, as if Baekhyun is nothing more than a pawn to control Chanyeol's emotions.

Rough hands grab onto the lapels of Sehun's suit, dragging him closer with every ounce of the tallest prince's strength. His hands shake, and Sehun’s eyes watch them, suddenly wide, suddenly panicked. He looks like a child, like the cousin that Chanyeol has watched grow in front of him -- like the boy who betrayed him all those years ago, the one he’d trusted and loved and never given up on. He hopes that each second passing between them feels like daggers against Sehun’s skin, that he is in agony at the thought of what he’s done. 

“I won’t do anything right now. There is no point in it. You won’t understand fully until you’re rotting in jail,” Chanyeol pushes him away roughly, momentum sending the younger prince flying to the ground, a harsh landing greeting him. “But if I ever see you in these palace walls again, I will make you regret every syllable you’ve said to me today. I hope we never meet again.”

And Chanyeol leaves him, an anguished pile of dark cloth on the pale floor, shaken and fearful for once in his life. 

\--

Baekhyun doesn’t hear of their meeting, of the words that his prince spat in Sehun’s face and the dangerous way he’d used his strength over the younger. Chanyeol wants to save it for a moment when Baekhyun is ready to hear it, when things are calm and being safe feels like second nature again. He wants the smaller to know when his footing is solid and his heart at peace. Instead, he goes to breakfast and brings back strawberries and kisses for Baekhyun, brings back his entire heart and all the protection he dares to offer. 

The older man is awoken in the early afternoon to soft lips on his shoulder and a bowl of fruit pushed toward him. Chanyeol's mumbled explanation of who was at breakfast is lost in the crook of his neck, swallowed whole by hands wrapping around his and gently bringing him closer. Baekhyun thinks they finish about half of the bowl in a sleepy daze, lips sweet with juice and fingers sticky as they slap each other's hands away, laughing. The glow of relief and happiness overshadows the conversation from earlier, and Chanyeol tucks the thought away like the stray hair that he pushes into place behind Baekhyun's ear.

“Can we visit your cousins soon? There's a lot that needs to be said.”

Baekhyun’s voice is garbled from the piece of melon he's chewing on, but Chanyeol understands. Junmyeon, Minseok, Joohyun -- even Jongin and Jongdae. So many people to thank, so much news from the Ohs’ questionings to catch up on.

“I think there’s going to be a formal dinner with my family tomorrow night. We’ll find out more about the Ohs and -- well, everything.” 

Baekhyun frowns, but Chanyeol cuts him off, a tiny smile playing on his lips and faked confusion clouding his eyes. He gestures down to his clothes, to the finely pressed shirt and the watch that glitters with each movement, and then back to Baekhyun's mussed hair and oversized shirt. 

“I’m doing my best, but tomorrow you need to be gorgeous, too. We can't let Joohyun be best dressed again.” 

Baekhyun rolls his eyes at the comment, seemingly unamused, before he leans forward to lick across the seam of Chanyeol's smile softly. He's slow and gentle, as if he's never touched the prince's lips before, as if he's testing the waters for affection, and it leaves the air crackling between them. 

“What was that for?” Chanyeol is startled, red and flustered and leaning into each touch the older gives him. 

“You fought for everything you said you would,” Baekhyun's biting Chanyeol’s upper lip. The taller's mouth falls open immediately, and a satisfied chuckle dances across their lips. “I'm proud.”

The room adjusts to the heat that spreads between them, to the way Baekhyun melts into Chanyeol’s familiar hands and touch, to the Chanyeol lets the smaller push him back into the soft blankets of their bed. 

Baekhyun is filled with happiness, lips trailing over Chanyeol whenever he can, hands agile and motions clumsy as they move together. It feels as though they know each other so well that there is no need to map the other out; everything is calculated touches and lingering smiles and knowing kisses. Chanyeol’s large hands wrap around the back of his neck to capture his lips, calloused fingers tracing the curve of Baekhyun’s ears, the line of his jaw, the curve of his hips. 

It’s familiar and searing when they connect, when Baekhyun’s hands steady on Chanyeol’s chest and push them both over the edge, mingling breaths and whispered words drowning out anything but the way their bodies react and adapt to the other in a world of their own. 

\-- 

He’s not quite sure that Chanyeol is even really awake right now, not when the taller’s eyes are fluttering closed every few seconds, when he’s basking in the sunlight that shines over their shared couch. The rays are warm on his cheekbones, gentle on the books stacked on the floor and the table, and calming to the smaller. The entire room is bathed in orange light, a twinkling array of polished wood and glimmering marble surrounding the pair. 

The palace library, Chanyeol had convinced him, was the perfect place to relax and take a deep breath before the formal dinner tonight. Baekhyun had, understandably, been shaken by the knowledge that Sehun really _isn’t_ going to be there, by the thought of a formal dinner in that formal dining room. 

Baekhyun still isn’t quite sure that the king welcomes him back yet, if ever. He supposes he’ll find out soon enough, whether he wants to or not.

To dispel the fearful thoughts in his mind, he had leapt on the opportunity to lean into old leather sofas and talk to Chanyeol with hushed voices here. It was supposed to be a calming afternoon (a getaway of some sorts, he thinks) before he must face the king and the remaining cousins, before he knows where he stands in this palace, before everything is out in the open. 

And the library date had started off beautifully -- soft voices, carefully selected books, and opposite ends of the same couch, cozy and serene. It almost feels like what a normal couple would do on a lazy day; it’s a dream come true. But then Chanyeol decides to sprawl out on the couch, sticking his gangly legs and feet onto the older’s side, tiny yawns escaping as the orange light turns rosy over them. When he doesn’t stir for a few minutes, Baekhyun puts down the book he’d been fake reading and studies the taller’s relaxed face. 

“Chanyeol,” there is no response, just a sleepy noise from the taller, his earthy green shirt melting into the shadows of the room. “Chanyeol, wake up.”

The book that is placed across Chanyeol’s chest moves slowly with his breathing, and Baekhyun shuffles from his place on the opposite end of the couch, letting his feet creep up to steal warmth from Chanyeol’s back. It takes only a moment before Chanyeol is recoiling, a familiar expression of shock spreading over his face. 

“You’re _cold!_ ” his voice is deep and whiny, exasperated. Baekhyun smiles at the way his eyes open reluctantly, the pout that takes hold of his lips. “I was napping.” 

“You can’t nap,” a yawn in response. “We need to read books and relax like you wanted. I was told this would be a cute little date, but you’re just sticking your stinky feet in my face.” 

Chanyeol’s laughing then, the kind of laugh that is far too happy for the way Baekhyun is pouting right now, so the shorter takes matters into his own hands -- or feet, really -- and places a jab on the small of Chanyeol’s back, leaving him rolling off of the couch and onto the floor in a pile of laughter. 

“You asshole!” Chanyeol’s voice is weak through his giggles, and Baekhyun thinks that they’re being far too loud for a library, but it’s perfectly okay. “What was _that_ for?” 

Yes, it’s definitely okay. Chanyeol is rolling on the floor, face red with laughter, caught up in a moment that feels as real as Baekhyun had always hoped.

This Chanyeol hides nothing from him -- this Chanyeol has told him everything about his past, has fought for himself and his mother and their relationship. This Chanyeol owns his entire heart, his entire future, and Baekhyun barely registers himself jumping from the couch to lay on top of the taller. 

It’s almost instinctive, and he doesn’t fight it, relishing in the surprise on his prince’s face, on the way their eyes meet and twinkle together, binary stars in the galaxy of this room. He’s pressed against his chest so tightly, head buried against Chanyeol’s neck, laughter caught in the prince’s throat as the smaller envelopes him with greedy arms. 

“Hey,” Baekhyun whispers against his neck. He softens under him, still confused but now happily relaxed, tender hands on the small of Baekhyun’s back. “I love you a lot, I think. I just wanted to remind you.” 

They’re still on the floor of the library, lovestruck and foolish, locked in each other’s arms and soft voices. Baekhyun is tilting his head up to kiss at the bottom of Chanyeol’s ear, hoping to sneak up to his jawline and, soon, his lips. 

“Oh! That reminded me.”

Chanyeol’s shuffling under him, searching for something. Baekhyun’s groan is muffled against Chanyeol’s soft skin and he goes limp on top of the prince on purpose, trying to dissuade him from ruining this moment.

The taller disregards Baekhyun’s response to his movement, still struggling to locate something in his back pocket, mind focused on his task instead of the lingering kisses Baekhyun is giving his throat. 

“Will you stop ruining the moment?” another kiss, this time on the plane between Chanyeol’s chin and bottom lip, gentle compared to the stress in his voice. “I was trying to be cute and romantic.” 

“Oh, me too,” Chanyeol’s stopped his movements -- he’s found whatever he’s looking for, evidently, and he’s pushing Baekhyun away from him at the exact same time, a radiant smile on his face.

Now Baekhyun is straddling the taller, only slightly offended, as he looks down at him incredulously. He pushed him up off his chest, even as he tried to be sweet and romantic. 

“Chanyeol, what --” Chanyeol puts a finger over his lips, urging the smaller to be quiet, but this only makes the older huff once again, making sure to dig his bony butt into Chanyeol’s stomach. “You _pushed_ me off!”

Chanyeol ignores the way he’s whining, focusing only on whatever is held in his hand, smile never falling. It's dazzling but so infuriating -- Baekhyun likes both, likes any way Chanyeol looks at him.

“I pushed you off so you can see this.”

His palm opens and Baekhyun stops to stare, transfixed by the simple gold ring in front of him. It’s elegant, dainty, and engraved with miniscule vines and flowers, ornate and all-consuming as Baekhyun looks closer. Each petal that has been engraved is unique, detailed with tiny images that makes Baekhyun’s mind spin, that makes him think of the flowers of his prince’s palace and the vines that crawl up the side of his mother’s cottage. 

“For you,” Chanyeol pushes his palm forward, still laying flat on his back, and Baekhyun realizes that he’s still straddling the taller and hunching over the ring, amazed. If anyone were to walk in, they would look silly right now, but his heart is pounding hard enough in his ears to blur the thought.

"For me? Really?"

“It’s for you. They took our rings last time, and I got us new ones. When I'm giving it to you this time, I’m not acting like I want us to be friends. So, really, I’m doing a better job already.” 

Baekhyun is shaking from the sudden rush of emotions, the weight that this tiny piece of gold holds over him, the power of Chanyeol’s eyes watching him with such a lovingly intense stare. He looks into the brown eyes below him and sees himself reflected in them, as fragile as the ring in front of him, as beautiful as he must appear to Chanyeol. The taller looks back at him like he’s the only thing in this world, as though this moment had been on his mind all along. 

“Are you going to ask me to marry you?” Baekhyun’s throat is closing as he says the words, his chest so full of love that he feels as though he’s choking on it. “Legally, we’re already married, right? Why would you spend money on this?” 

Chanyeol’s laughing under him, voice strained with his own emotions, and Baekhyun’s whole being shakes with each round of giggles from the prince. His body goes warm at the way Chanyeol’s face twists in happiness, and he feels sweat forming on his back, nervousness joining happiness in a waltz through his bloodstream. 

“We _are_ still legally married, right? The Chaeyoung engagement lasted two days, if that. I can’t imagine that the king finished all that paperwork to truly annul our --” Chanyeol’s hand rests on his hip comfortably, joy still glimmering across his features, and Baekhyun shifts against him, unnerved even as happiness floods his system. “Wait, can he? He can’t do it that quickly, right? Chanyeol, answer, please.” 

“Not even the king can nullify a marriage in two days,” he licks his lips, pink and soft and dreamlike. “We are legally married, don't worry.” 

Chanyeol’s free hand grabs for his left, calloused fingertips first tracing each of Baekhyun’s fingers and then his palm, worshipping each inch of his hand as if he’s never seen it before, as if he’s never held it before. It makes Baekhyun’s stomach flip and his throat constrict even more, this time a warning sign of his impending tears, of the sheer impact Chanyeol’s emotions and words has on him. 

The prince is adoring him with such intensity, and it makes everything feel out of control for a moment. Chanyeol’s emotions overpower him, overwhelm his every sense, and he’s not sure he’s breathing correctly, too busy focusing on Chanyeol’s eyelashes and pursed lips instead of his own heart and its erratic beating. 

“Legally, yes,” Chanyeol repeats, turning Baekhyun’s palm over to stare at the top of his hand fondly. “But you always wanted a ceremony. It was taken away. Can we have the wedding you wanted with these rings? Can I write you vows? Can I kiss you with my whole future on the line?” 

Baekhyun feels his face go hot, recognizes the prick of tears against the corners of his eyes. He’s already nodding, and Chanyeol smiles brightly even as his eyes cloud over.

Somehow, Baekhyun thinks he is the most beautiful right now, tired and sprawled out on the library’s floor, eyes focused on his hands and swimming in tears. 

“Will you marry me?” 

And Baekhyun’s gasping out a stream of yes yes yes and watching the ring fit around his shaky finger, the weight of it filling his heart completely. Then Chanyeol’s pulling another ring out, this time outfitted with intricate engravings of waves and clouds -- and Baekhyun’s shoulders shake with laughter and sobs as he takes it carefully, delicately, and places it on Chanyeol’s finger. 

“You’ll marry me, too?” 

Chanyeol uses their connected hands to pull the shorter back toward him, on top of him completely, and slants their mouths together in an electrifying kiss. 

“You know my answer already.” 

He kisses the corner of Baekhyun’s mouth and squeezes their hands together thrice. _I love you_ , it seems to say, and the smaller returns the favor, sending his own message back: _love you more._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so.....how we feeling? we like sehun suffering and getting scared? we like chanbaek FINALLY getting new rings/a wedding? i hope so lmao! we'll see the cousins more next chapter!!!! sdkfdsfkjsf 
> 
> hope you all had a good new years! love u all & feedback is always appreciated! ❤️
> 
> aff: baekyall  
> twitter: baekyalls  
> other: curiouscat.me/baekyall


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